The Broken Road
by xVeronicax
Summary: Trunks finds that there is life after Goten when he falls for the person he least expected. Just a little DBZ chick lit. Yaoi, M/M, strong language, romantic themes.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: GotenxTrunks, GohanxTrunks. Goten is 18, Trunks is 19, and Gohan is 28. Pan and Bra/Bolla don't exist.

**Chapter 1**

"So, you'll do it right, Goten? Come on, I'll help you with the application." It was the spring of Goten's senior year of high school and Trunks had everything planned. He had taken a year off of school after his own high school graduation and worked with his mother at Capsule Corporation so he and Goten could start college together. But his best friend was not making it very easy.

"Tru-unks," Goten whined into the telephone, "you and me both know there's no way I can get into Weston University."

"Why not? It's not even that great a school. Western Tech and South City College both ranked higher last year. It should be a piece of cake, really. Practically anybody can get in."

"Maybe for you, Trunks, but you don't get it. It's an Ivy League school. Just because it didn't rank as high as two other Ivy League schools doesn't mean they're going to take me," he insisted. "Don't all those ranking books you have tell you what their acceptance rate is? Weston takes, like, 2% of their applicants—if that!"

"I guess . . . ." Trunks gave in. Goten was probably right, he supposed. "Well then let's both apply to West City U. And you can't argue with me because right here in my book it says they accept 70% of people who apply. You'll get in there even if you don't manage to graduate. They take anyone!"

"Gee, thanks!" came Goten's sarcastic reply. Then again, if he blew off organic chemistry one more time there was a distinct possibility that he would _not_ be graduating. Maybe Trunks was on to something here. "Ok, I'll apply there. But you can't. It's insane. You're practically a shoo-in at Weston. You can't give that up."

"Why not?" The teenaged prince sounded indignant. "I don't even wanna go if you're not there. Come on, we always said we'd go to college together, since we didn't get to go to high school together." Bulma had sent Trunks to a private school in West City while Goten had attended a small public school for Mt. Paozu locals. When Goten was old enough for high school he had come to West City to attend the public school there. He and Trunks always met up after school and spent until dark hanging out at Capsule Corp. when Goten had to go home. But back then they swore they'd go to college together so they could stir up trouble during school hours, which they were sure was much more fun.

"I don't know . . . ." Goten trailed off. Why couldn't his friend see that things had changed since then? Trunks took after his mother's family in the brains department and was destined to be a great scientist. Goten . . . well he was more like Goku in the brains department. Of course, Goten didn't particularly want to voice the comparison out loud. Instead he stated simply, "Because we made that pact when we were little kids and we're not kids anymore. It doesn't really make sense now that we're older."

Trunks gasped loudly. "Don't you think it would be fun to go to school together? It's not childish to want to spend time with each other. You're hurting my feelings here, Goten."

"Stop being melodramatic. Of course I think it would be fun to go to school together. But your mom will flip if you tell her you're going to West City U."

"Well, good, I like making waves. Someone has to make things more interesting around here," Trunks said, resting his chin in his hand as he laid belly-down on his bed. "It's settled then, we'll go to WCU together!"

"Ok, Trunks, if you want, we'll go to WCU together." Goten laughed.

"And another thing," the older teen said matter-of-factly. "I'm getting the hell out of here. I've got to get away from my parents. Let's get a place together! An apartment in the city. Just the two of us--no one to interrogate us, no one to answer to! No one screaming at us every day . . . ." he added.

"Ha! Well it sounds great," Goten said, a mental picture of Chichi's angry face making him cringe. "In fact, it sounds like a damn dream come true, but there's no way you're going to win this one. Chichi is never letting me out of this house. She didn't let Gohan leave until he got married, and then it was only across the yard."

"You're no fun. Just ask her, it's worth a try."

"You seriously like seeing me in pain, don't you? She'll bite my head off for even thinking about it."

"Do it tonight, come on." Then Trunks added sweetly, "For me."

"Ugh, fine!" Goten relented. The dread of approaching Chichi with such a request was already building in his stomach.

"Yes! This is gonna be so great. I'm asking Bulma and Vegeta as soon as we're off the phone."

"Bulma and Vegeta? Don't you mean your _mummy and daddy_?" Goten asked, saying the last words in a high-pitched voice, openly mocking his friend.

"Hey, I'm just trying to be more grown up, like you Goten." The young prince mocked him right back. "Now stop picking on me and go ask her. Ask Goku first, he'll say yes."

"You know that won't work."

"Make it happen. Bye Goten!"

"I hate you," were the last words Trunks heard as he hung up with a satisfied grin. So far things were going exactly as planned.

***

"Mother!" Trunks' shouts echoed through the halls of the house as he headed for Bulma's lab. He could sense her faint ki-signature there. "Mother, mother!" He loudly announced his presence as he entered the lab.

"What _is _it, Trunks?" She looked tired. _Uh oh, _he thought, _maybe I didn't pick the best time to talk to her. _Oh well, no turning back now.

The door to the gravity room opened and a long, slim shadow fell across the floor. "What in the world is all this racket?" Vegeta did not look amused.

_Always so uptight, _the younger Saiyan thought, his face dropping into a frown. "Well, I'll tell you," he began, trying to sound like a confident adult. "I'm going to be starting at university in a few weeks, and . . ." He hesitated for a second. "I think it's high time that I get my own place. Yes, I want to move out," he finished. No sense beating around the bush. Trunks braced himself as he saw Bulma's mouth drop open.

"There's NO way!" she screeched. "There is no way you're living on your own. Trunks, you don't even know how to do your own laundry!"

"But I won't be on my own, mother," he answered excitedly. "I'm going to live with Goten. He'll do my laundry!" Trunks flashed all of his teeth in a huge grin, thinking what Goten would say if he had heard that.

"For god's sake, woman," Vegeta chimed in. "Cut the cord. Do you want the boy living here forever? Quite frankly I'd be glad to be rid of him. He eats us out of house and home." Trunks thought this was probably his father's idea of helping him out.

"Well . . ." Bulma considered it for a moment. "I suppose maybe if you were going to live with someone responsible."

"Oh yeah, Goten's totally responsible. He's always talking about how we're grown-ups now and everyth--"

"No, not Goten," Bulma interrupted. Her son could tell by her voice that she had already made up her mind.

His blue eyes narrowed. "Well, then who?" he asked, a slightly whiny tone creeping into his voice.

"Well," Bulma looked thoughtful. "Gohan has been looking for a place in his price range ever since he and Videl divorced. You _kno_w he doesn't want to move back in with Goku and Chichi." She made a face. "And in the meantime he's just living in that house with his ex-wife, she's at his throat all the time, and he lives so far away from Capsule . . ."

"Motherrrr!" Trunks was in full-fledged whining mode now. "Not Gohan! He's even lamer than the two of you!" He clapped a hand over his mouth as Vegeta gasped in annoyance and surprise. A look which could almost be described as hurt spread across his father's face.

"Well, good! That's what you need," Bulma said. "You and Goten are too wild. You need someone who can look after you. _And_ who knows how to do your laundry." She added with a laugh. "I doubt Goten knows any better than you do how to get chocolate ice cream out of cashmere."

Trunks frowned, but gave in. "Ok, fine. But can Goten live there, too?"

"If Chichi says it's ok. And if Gohan agrees. We can't make too many plans without asking him. Although I think he's really eager to get out of Videl's house. I'll call him right now!" Bulma's excitement by now matched her son's. She was just solving everyone's problems today! She leaned against her computer console with a self-satisfied smile.

"Sweet! Thanks mom, thanks dad!" Trunks quickly exited the lab and raced upstairs to call Goten. Chichi answered the phone at the Son house. "Hi, is Goten there?"

"You have a lot of nerve Mr. Trunks Briefs!" she screamed into the phone. "My Goten is not going anywhere--and especially not to live with the likes of you! I know how you operate, Mister. You city people are all the same! Dragging my son to all sorts of dirty drug houses and dance clubs and down back alleys where he could be robbed or even wors--" Trunks drowned out the sound of Chichi's voice, amused that she clearly didn't know that living under her roof hadn't stopped Goten from finding dance clubs and drugs years ago. And anyone who tried to rob a Saiyan would be very sorry.

"No, really, Chichi, it's not like that!" he attempted to interrupt, but there was no stopping her when she was on a roll.

"You have always been a bad influence on my Goten! I still think it was you who taught him how to turn into one of those horrible Super Saiyans when you were kids, oh bless his heart--"

Trunks could here Goku in the background. "Chichi, please, just give me the phone and calm down." A minute later, Goten's father had managed to pry the phone from his wife's hand.

Goku laughed nervously, "Hi Trunks! She's just a little bit upset right now. Hey, how are your parents doing?" Goku was doing his best to diffuse the situation.

"Oh, they're both good, thanks for asking."

"Has your dad been training in the gravity room a lot? Tell him we should spar sometime soon! I found a great place out here that's at least a hundred miles from any town and we could really go all out--no holding back. That should be enough to tempt him, dontcha think, Trunks?"

"Umm, yeah, he's always grumbling your name when he's in the gravity room, so I'm sure he'd be all for--"

"Get off the phone, Dad!" Goten's angry voice broke in. "Trunks doesn't care about you and Vegeta's stupid workout routine."

"Ok then," Goku didn't sound put off. "Bye, Trunks, good talking to you!"

"Bye sir." Trunks said quietly.

As soon as the boys heard the distinctive click indicating the line was theirs, Goten hissed, "Do you see what you did?"

"I'm sorry, Goten."

"No you're not," Goten said calmly. "But there's the answer to your question. I'm not moving anywhere."

Trunks knitted his lavender brows wondering how to get around this latest hurdle. Maybe Gohan could talk some sense into Chichi. If there was anyone she'd listen to, it'd be—. Oh my god, Gohan. "Oh no, Goten." Trunks' voice was deadly serious. "You have no idea how bad this is."

"What are you talking about?"

"My mom--she won't let me move either unless I live with--" Trunks paused for added effect. He didn't want the horror of the situation to be lost on his friend, "--with Gohan!" he finished dramatically.

"What? My brother, Gohan?"

"Do you know a lot of other Gohans that my mom would just hand me off to?" Trunks was annoyed.

"But why?" Goten asked.

"Because she says I need guidance and structure. Something about doing my own laundry, I don't know!" The demi-Saiyan was panicking now. This wasn't the way he had planned things at all. A little while ago, he was as good as shacked up with his best friend, mentally planning the craziest house-warming party West City had ever seen, and now he was stuck living with practically the most boring person he could think of after his parents. Gohan would never agree to a house-warming party featuring multiple flavored vodka ice luges. At least if Goten was there, they would have had a 2-to-1 advantage. Trunks was beside himself. "Thanks a lot, Goten!" he couldn't help yelling even though he knew it wasn't the other boy's fault. But after a few silent moments, Trunks brightened a bit. "Well, at least we'll still be going to school together," he reasoned. "And I'm sure you can crash with us sometimes. Maybe if you stay over enough and don't die or get mugged, then your mom will let you move in properly!" Yes, this could work. "All is not lost, Goten."

"Well, I'm glad you have it all worked out, Trunks," the other said with a sigh. "I, for one, am exhausted. I'll catch you tomorrow, k?"

"Night, Goten."

"Night."

***

"I have good news," Bulma's voice sang as Trunks entered the kitchen. He was still half asleep, dragged from bed only by the smell of blueberry pancakes.

"What?" he asked, barely paying attention as he poured maple syrup over his heaping pile of pancakes.

"I talked to Gohan last night, and he's very excited about the little idea we came up with!" Her eyes sparkled. She just loved to help out a good friend and Gohan had been grateful for the opportunity to get a place in the city for such a great price. "I told him I would pay the rent for both of you since he agreed to look after you, and he's doing me such a big favor, but he insisted on paying his part. He's such responsible young man. You could learn a lot from him, Trunks."

"Great," Trunks mumbled. But he was actually getting excited about the big move. "Can we go look at apartments today? I'm thinking penthouse, doorman-building, master bath off of my bedroom . . . Of course it has to be close to West City U. . ."

"Why would it have to be close to West City U?" Bulma inquired.

"Oh cuz that's where . . ." _Shit, I totally forgot to tell her this part._ Trunks gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. "That's where I'm going to school," he finished quietly.

"WHAT? WEST CITY UNIVERSITY? But you're a Weston legacy! That's where I went and I always thought my son would follow in my shoes . . ." Bulma's voice drifted off. She had been angry at first, but now she looked on the verge of tears.

"Mother, don't worry," Trunks reassured her, not wanting to see his mother cry. "I'll go there for my post-graduate studies. I'm just not ready yet." He attempted to sell the story by giving Bulma his best puppy dog eyes.

"Or do you just want to follow wherever Goten goes?" Bulma knew her son better than he knew himself. "If you think you're going to goof off for four years and still get into Weston for your doctorate, you've got another thing coming, young man. This isn't a joke, Trunks. You have to take it seriously." She threw her hands in the air, "Gohan is sure going to have his hands full!"

But an hour later, mother and son were on their way downtown in Trunks' car. Bulma had called her real estate broker, Miyu, and given her a rundown of Trunks' demands. She had set up a showing for them in a brand new building just off the campus of WCU.

They arrived to find Gohan already waiting for them. He approached the passenger side of the car and opened the door for Bulma. "Gohan!" she said, throwing her arms around him for a hug. "Long time no see!" Of course she was joking. They worked together on a daily basis, Bulma being the president and majority owner of Capsule Corp. and Gohan being head of the bioengineering department.

"So the penthouse, huh?" Gohan disentanged himself from Bulma's arms and looked amusedly at Trunks. "Always have to have the best." Trunks couldn't tell, but it almost sounded like disdain in Gohan's voice. But the next second he said cheerfully, "Well, let's have a look." The purple-haired teen leaned against his car with a pout. _It's not my fault if I have good taste, _he thought, gazing critically at Gohan's hunter green sweater-vest. Then his eyes moved down slightly. Damned if his ass didn't look good in those jeans though.

The three headed up in the elevator to the fourteenth floor in silence. There were only two apartments on the top floor and the door to the one on the left was wide open. The silence was broken by the sound of Bulma's broker, who came flying into the hall, papers and business cards falling to the floor behind her. "Oh, you must be Trunks!" she cooed, running towards the young man with arms spread wide. "You're twice as handsome as you were the last time I saw you! Oh, you were just the cutest little thing. You were only this big back then! And so mischievous!" She held her hand waist-high for a second, then pounced on Trunks again, pinching his left cheek.

Trunks' blue eyes widened and he gasped in surprise at the unwanted--and painful--contact. He heard Gohan very obviously suppress a laugh. "Such a cutie!" Miyu gushed. She pinched his lightly tanned skin still harder between her thumb and forefinger.

"Uh, excuse me, Miyu," Bulma chimed in to save her son. "Why don't we take a look at the apartment?"

"Oh of course darling!" The broker agreed, removing her fingers from Trunks' now red cheek. The two women flitted through the apartment door as the lavender-haired teen stood there blinking. _Some people!_ he thought.

Gohan's laugh echoed from behind him. He was no longer bothering to conceal his amusement. "Move it, cutie," he teased as he pushed Trunks forward towards the door.

After a quick but thorough look around the place, Bulma and Gohan signed the papers renting the penthouse apartment for the next twelve months. Trunks leaned against the island in the center of the kitchen surveying his 1300-square-foot chunk of freedom while the other two took care of the paperwork. Actually this had worked out quite nicely, he thought. The apartment was plenty big enough for the both of them and Gohan's room was on the opposite side of the living room from Trunks' so there should be no problem when Goten came to stay over--

"You sure are good at getting your way, kid." His thoughts were interrupted by Gohan's voice. Trunks opened his mouth to defend himself, but Gohan's smiling face made it clear he meant no offense.

"Hey, I thought of you, too." Trunks flashed a wide smile. "_Both_ bedrooms have master baths, don't they?"

"I'm not complaining," Gohan agreed.

Trunks turned to Bulma with sparkling eyes that matched her own. "So, when can we move in?"


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: The sex scene in this chapter has been heavily edited to comply with the terms of this website. If you are at least 18 years old and you'd like to read the unedited version, it can be found at the Adult Fan Fiction website or Boxer & Rice. Just google the sites....this thing won't let me type their addresses out...

**Chapter 2**

A few weeks later, the two men were comfortably settled into their apartment just in time for the start of the fall semester. Goten and Trunks were sprawled across the oversized black leather couch flailing their arms wildly playing a new martial arts game on the Nintendo Wii. Goten had convinced Chichi to let him sleep over after Gohan had repeatedly assured their mother that he'd be better off sleeping close to the school so he wasn't late for the first day of classes.

Gohan rolled his eyes as he tried to focus on the blueprints in front of him while the shouts and curses of the two boys completely shredded his concentration. "You realize that you guys could have a better fight than that if you put down the controllers and actually fought each other, don't you?"

"Be quiet, Gohan!" Goten shouted between virtual punches.

"Yeah, this is more fun and it hurts less," Trunks agreed.

"Well, I hate to be the voice of reason but--"

"No you don't," Goten said.

"Yeah, he loves it!" The teenagers giggled at Gohan's expense.

"Hey!" Gohan was hurt. He could be fun. But Bulma had entrusted him with the task of making sure Trunks did well in school and it was a burden he didn't take lightly. He knew that Trunks would be president of Capsule Corp. one day and he knew from working there for the last six years that it was not an easy job. Over the last year, since Trunks was just an intern, Bulma had gone easy on him. But one day he would be president of the company and he needed to be well-prepared to handle the title. That training started now. Gohan put his foot down. "It's getting late, Trunks. Bulma will kill me if you're not in class tomorrow by 8 a.m. sharp."

The rebellious demi lifted his legs onto the couch and turned around to face his babysitter. "So that's how it's going to be?" he asked with a disbelieving look. Gohan shrugged. This was some position Bulma had put him in!

In that moment, Trunks wisely decided that he would have to pick his battles with Gohan and this one wasn't worth it. "Fine," he sighed. "Come on, Goten, let's go to my room."

"Okay." The two boys tossed their controllers onto the couch and Trunks led Goten off by the hand.

"Wait 'til you see the view from in there. I have my own balcony you know. You can actually see campus and everything . . . ." Their voices disappeared down the corridor and Gohan heard a door close. He walked over and surveyed the coffee table. It was littered with soda cans and there was melted ice cream pooling around a half-empty carton in the center. The older Saiyan sighed audibly and rubbed his forehead, wondering what he had gotten himself into.

***

The following morning Gohan prepared to leave for work. Standing in front of the full length mirror that hung on the door to the hall closet, he noticed with annoyance that there was still no sound coming from Trunks' room. That meant that neither boy had set an alarm, and Gohan would have the difficult task of dragging them out of bed. With only twenty minutes left before he had to be at work, he headed quickly down the hall on the opposite end of the apartment. He knocked loudly on the door. He really didn't have time for this. Getting no answer, he tried the doorknob. The door pushed open easily and Gohan saw his brother and Trunks sprawled out still fast asleep on the bed.

Trunks wore only a pair of royal blue boxer briefs and lay on his side, stretched across the bed from the top right corner to the bottom left. Goten still wore his jeans and one shoe. He lay on his back, his legs spread across his friend's backside, with his head hanging backwards off the far end of the bed. Together they made a big "X" across the mattress. Gohan smiled in spite of himself. Not much had changed in the last ten years, he saw. But then, remembering what time it was, he cleared his throat and in his best Vegeta impression he shouted, "Get up, you brats, before I blast this bed into the next galaxy!"

Trunks scrambled out of bed so fast he didn't even notice that Goten's legs were entangled with his own. By the time he stood up with a "Yes, sir!" a split second later, his boxer briefs were pulled halfway down his narrow hips and Gohan had an unobstructed view of both cheeks. Goten lifted himself onto his elbows with a confused look and attempted to blink the sleep out of his brown eyes. His always messy black hair was twice as tousled as usual and Trunks' normally straight lilac locks were plastered across the side of his face. A face whose expression was quickly changing from panicked to pissed off.

"Hahahahaha!" Gohan collapsed against the door frame laughing. See, he could be fun when he wanted to be. "You should see your freakin' face right now!" Goten looked back at Trunks and slowly started laughing as well.

Trunks' face flushed as he quickly straightened his underwear. "Shut up, Goten! You know he scared the shit out of you, too!" he said, throwing a pillow at the younger Son who was laughing in earnest now that he knew Vegeta wasn't really there.

"Seriously, though—" Gohan started, trying to catch his breath, "you guys are going to be late." Trunks began dressing in silence, pulling on a white t-shirt, jeans, and his Capsule Corp. jacket. "Come on, don't be mad," Gohan cajoled his roommate.

Trunks ran a hand through his hair and it fell almost perfectly into place. "I'll get you back," was all he said, and by the sound of his voice, Gohan guessed he was already forming a revenge plan.

"Fine, fine," the older man said. "Just get yourselves to class. I've got to leave for work."

"Bye big brother!" Goten yelled after him as he disappeared down the hall. Goten pulled on a grey sweatshirt that was laying on his friend's floor and fished his other shoe out from under the bed.

"Your brother almost gave me a damned heart attack," the prince of the pair complained as they walked down the hall towards the kitchen.

"I'll fix it," Goten said with a grin. He hoisted himself onto the counter of the island in the kitchen and slid across it on the seat of his jeans. Landing easily on the other side he grabbed two travel mugs and began filling them with coffee. Then he disappeared behind the counter for a moment before re-emerging scratching the back of his head with one hand and holding a bottle of Bailey's Irish Crème in the other.

"Sweetheart you read my mind," Trunks exclaimed as Goten laughed, looking much like a young Goku.

"Cheers!" Goten handed one heavily spiked mug to Trunks.

"To the rest of our lives!" With that the boys downed a mouthful of their drinks and rushed out the door, mugs in hand.

***

Four hours and two classes later, the Saiyan students walked out of the main University lecture hall and into the bright afternoon sun. Goten's stomach growled loudly. "I'm starving," he said. "Let's go get lunch."

The two made there way to Sakura, a local university hangout. In no time, they had seated themselves at a table with three trays full of noodles. They had just begun devouring their second tray when two young women approached the table. "Hi," the darker-haired of the girls said. Her double ponytails bobbed up and down. "We're sorry to bother you, but, um—are you Trunks Briefs?" she blurted out. The blond girl with her giggled nervously.

Trunks had gained a certain amount of notoriety in West City, being the heir to the Capsule Corporation fortune and devilishly handsome to boot. Goten was always jealous of the attention Trunks received from young women, but Trunks seemed impervious to it. Without missing a beat, he said sincerely, "No, you must have me confused with somebody else." Then, extending a hand in greeting he stated, "My name is Son Goten."

"Oh," the girls both nodded and each one shook his hand. Then all three looked expectantly at Goten. The girls were waiting for Goten to introduce himself and Trunks was waiting with an amused grin to see what Goten could come up with for a name. _Damnit, _Goten cursed mentally. Now if he made up a name, he'd look like an idiot if he ever saw these girls again. But if he said his name was also Goten . . . . He sighed and chose the lesser of two evils.

"I'm . . . Goten, too." He rolled his eyes at Trunks as he shook their hands.

"Hi, Goten, too," the blond girl giggled again. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Tiffany and this is Kim. We noticed you guys were in both of our classes this morning and we wanted to say hi. I guess we'll see you guys around, okay?" They waved once more as they trotted away.

"Bye!" Goten yelled after them. Then turning to Trunks, "You're such an ass!"

Trunks just laughed. "Goten, you are so easy to fluster. You could have just ratted me out, you know. But then they probably never would have left." Goten's normally large brown eyes were narrowed in a scowl. "Come on, Go-chan, my morning buzz is wearing off. Let's go get changed and go out. I'll make it up to you, I promise." Trunks attempted to make peace. Although he loved picking on Goten, he had no desire to truly upset his best friend. He slid his arms around Goten's waist and laid his head on his friend's shoulder. "I'll lend you my new acid washed Seven jeans to wear tonight!"

"Okay." The younger boy relented with a sigh. If he stayed mad, Trunks would only pester him more. "And those sneakers!" He pointed to his friend's feet. Since using his material possessions was the only way Trunks had ever known to make peace with him, Goten figured he might as well exploit it.

"Deal."

***

Gohan returned from work shortly after 7 p.m. He dropped his briefcase on his desk and sunk down into the welcoming cushion of the leather armchair. Removing his glasses, he rubbed his eyes. He was exhausted.

Gohan could hear his brother and Trunks on the other side of the apartment. Their voices were talking excitedly and they seemed to be in high spirits. He vaguely wished he could return to a time when he was as young and carefree as they were. Then again, although he had once been their age, he could not remember ever having been carefree. When he was younger than Goten was now, the fate of the world and all his friends had been placed in his hands by his father, who believed Gohan was the only one who could defeat Cell. Then at the tender age of eighteen, the age Goten was at now, he was stuck on the Kai planet, training with Old Kai and gaining strength to fight Buu. Shortly thereafter, he had married Videl and begun working at Capsule, pursuing his Ph.D. in his spare time. Hell, he hadn't even been as carefree as those two when he was a small child. Not with Chichi always pushing him to study.

Trunks and Goten had grown up in relatively peaceful times, compared to what Gohan remembered from childhood. The biggest threat those two had ever faced was Buu and, although he was a strong opponent, the boys had thought of it as more of a game than a life-or-death situation.

Yes, in many ways Gohan envied them. No doubt about it.

He was interrupted from his thoughts as Trunks walked into the room. "Hey, Gohan," he said with a sideways glance at the older Saiyan. "Have you seen my new Kenny's—they're loafers, slip-on, black leather?" Trunks was racing from place to place in the room as if he had lost his most valuable possession.

"Nope, sorry kid," Gohan said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

"I found them!" Trunks exclaimed in triumph. He pointed to the toe of a shoe sticking out from beneath the sofa. Then looking at Gohan with pleading eyes, he said, "Would you get them out from under there and put them on for me please?" Gohan opened one eye and stared directly into big, puppy dog blue ones. Was he serious?

"You want me to put your shoes on for you?" Gohan was incredulous. The last thing he needed after a long day of dealing with a demanding Bulma was to come home and deal with her demanding son. "Look, you may be the Prince of Saiyans and everything but I'm not going to bow down at your feet and put your shoes on for you."

"No, it's not like that!" Trunks insisted. "Honestly, Gohan. It's just that I can't bend over in these pants. Look!" The demi pointed to his lower half. For the first time, the older Saiyan noticed Trunks was wearing a skin-tight pair of black leather pants and a dark grey silk-cotton turtleneck; neither of which left much to the imagination. Trunks turned his back to Gohan and bent his knees. Leather squeaked against leather. "See?"

"Fine." The older Saiyan sighed, getting up from the comfortable armchair and grabbing the shoes from beneath the sofa. With a distinct sense of inferiority he kneeled at Trunks' feet and slid the shoes on.

"Thank you!" the younger man said sincerely. Goten walked into the room then, wearing a dark blue pair of acid washed skinny jeans and a pinstriped button down shirt. "Damn, Goten," Trunks said, gazing at his friend. "You look really good in my pants." Gohan glanced up at the overtly sexual comment and saw his brother flash a wicked grin back at Trunks. The violet-haired teen smiled then looked back down towards Gohan, who quickly looked at the floor. _Is Gohan blushing? _Trunks wondered with amusement. Man, he was even easier to fluster than his little brother.

"Are you ready yet, diva?" Goten asked.

"Almost." Trunks walked over to the mirror that hung on the hall closet. "This outfit needs something, though." He pursed his lips and stared at his reflection. "I know!" A second later, Gohan gasped as Trunks' power level skyrocketed. His lavender hair flew skyward as if blown by an unseen force and began to glow a bright yellow-blond. "What do you think?" He turned to his friend.

"Haha, awesome!" Goten agreed, immediately following suit. Goten's normally almost horizontal spikes billowed upward as his power level rose. In a second, he glowed with white light and blinked his big green eyes. Blond bangs framed his smiling face.

"Perfect, now we're ready to go." Trunks agreed.

"Are you kidding me?" Gohan leapt from his kneeling position on the floor. "You two can't go out like that!" Their complete lack of appreciation for the seriousness of their powers was infuriating. A second later, the phone rang. "Yes?" Gohan answered with an edge to his voice. "No Dad, everything's okay. It's just Trunks and Goten. They think Super Saiyan is a fashion accessory!" A few seconds of silence on Gohan's end, then, "I know, Dad. But they're not going to listen to _me_." As Gohan said the last word in the sentence, Trunks noticed a slight tone of tiredness, even defeat, in his voice. The teenager vaguely wondered why Gohan didn't just power up to Mystic and kick their asses. But all the better for them if he didn't realize the true depth of his authority. Gohan hung up the phone. "Dad says power down or he's IT-ing over here."

Goten snorted in annoyance but powered down immediately. He had no desire to have his father show up. But Trunks couldn't believe that Gohan, possibly the most powerful Saiyan on planet Earth, still thought he needed his dad to fight his battles. What was wrong with this guy?

"Gohan," he said, sliding up behind the older man. "You really need to relax." He began kneading Gohan's shoulders. But the massage didn't relax Gohan at all. First, he was sure that Trunks was up to something and, second, the power that was emanating from the prince's Super Saiyan form, only inches from his own, put Gohan on edge. He could feel Trunks' energy enveloping him and it was . . . unnerving. A kind of rhythmic pulsation that fused easily with his own ki. He almost felt like he was drinking Trunks' essence, and it was strangely disarming. And then just as quickly it was gone. Lavender hair descended around Trunks' face once more and tickled Gohan's cheek as it fell. As the spell was broken, Gohan noticed the front of the other man's body was pressed up against his back, from shoulder to knee. Strong hands held him in place. "You're no fun at all." Trunks lips brushed Gohan's ear as they formed the words and he could feel the younger boy's breath on his neck. He gasped at the closeness of the contact and noticed Trunks' hands were sliding down his arms and then down the front of his jeans. Quickly he jumped out of the boy's reach and could only stare open-mouthed as Goten and Trunks melted into peels of laughter. They were messing with him and it was beyond embarrassing.

"Do whatever you want." Gohan rolled his eyes and made his way towards his bedroom. He had too much on his mind to play their childish games. Reaching his room, Gohan shut the door, effectively shutting out the sound of their laughter. He heard the door to the apartment open and then close as the boys left for the night. _Peace at last._ A few seconds later, however, the front door clicked open once again and shuffling feet made their way down the hall. There was a soft knock on Gohan's door. He opened it slightly. His tired eyes met with Trunks' shining blue ones.

"Gohan, I just wanted to tell you that if you're hungry, there are lots of leftover noodles in the fridge. Me and Goten ordered enough for an army. You can have them." Gohan thought the teen must be feeling guilty for picking on him. But the invitation sounded good.

"Okay. Thanks Trunks," he said softly. Then, flashing a quick smile, the other was gone.

***

"I swear, Briefs, you are too much." As the boys slid into a booth at a popular nearby bar, Goten was still chuckling over the scene at the penthouse. "That look on his face was priceless!" The younger of the two marveled at Trunks' ability to turn a shitty situation—where they were being lectured by Gohan and soon to be on the receiving end of a butt-kicking by Goku—into such a hilarious moment.

Trunks smiled mischievously. "I sort of feel bad for poor Gohan though. He just makes it so easy!" Besides, Trunks thought, banishing all guilt, it had been worth it to see Goten smile. The boys sat on the same side of the booth, sharing a bench. Trunks turned his back to Goten and leaned backwards against his friend's arm, drawing his legs up onto the seat. Now this was nice.

The waitress approached them. "Are you waiting for the rest of your party?" she asked, pointing to the empty bench.

"No," Trunks said without further explanation. "But bring us a pitcher of Sangria and . . . ." He leaned his head backward on Goten's shoulder and looked up at his spiky-haired companion, "are you hungry for anything?"

Goten thought for a moment, then shook his head. As the waitress walked away, he stole a glance at his best friend. Trunks' practically perfect features could take on so many expressions. Right now his face glowed with an almost childlike innocence as he stared off across the room through his criss-crossed purple bangs. There were times when Goten felt so much for his lifelong friend. Like now. "Not hungry for anything I can eat here, Trunks-sama." He placed a quick kiss on the other demi's forehead.

"Goten, you horny bastard." But a smile was spreading across Trunks' face as he caught that unmistakable gleam in his friend's eye. By the time their Sangria arrived, Trunks was already eager to get him home. For him, the desire for his friend had only gotten stronger with each passing year. But Goten didn't seem to like engaging in such "activities" anymore as much as he did when they were younger. "I had thought maybe you didn't like me anymore." Trunks was half-joking, but half testing the waters. Under the table, his feet scraped unconsciously back and forth on the floor as he waited for Goten's answer. The fact that Goten was unpredictably moody these days had not been lost on him.

"I could never not like you." Goten closed his eyes and rested his forehead against his friend's and quietly enjoyed the closeness for a few moments. "Now, let's not let this pitcher go to waste."

***

The two teens left the bar an hour later feeling giddy on Sangria and infatuation. They made the short trip back to the apartment, hand-in-hand, their voices echoing down emptying alleyways. Whoever was in front at any given moment pulled the other along behind.

Soon the boys stood in the elevator of the apartment building, side by side, breathing heavily. As soon as the doors closed, Goten turned and pinned his friend against the wall with the entire length of his body. Their lips met, as they had done so many times before. The two had shared their first kiss when they were only eight and nine, respectively, after they had spied on Gohan and Videl in a private moment and seen them making out. They didn't know what the big deal was about kissing back then. But they had figured it out later, when the hormones of puberty kicked in.

Trunks laced his fingers through Goten's soft, spiky hair and drank him in. Their legs and arms intertwined. By now, their bodies fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. But it hadn't always been so effortless. In his mind, Trunks drifted back to the first time they tried to have sex, when he was sixteen and Goten was fifteen. It had taken them a whole week to gather up the courage to buy lube, which they figured they would need based on the movies and magazines they'd seen. The two had made the trip to the drug store ten times that week and chickened out before finally purchasing a tube of the stuff with bright red cheeks. Trunks smiled against Goten's lips at the memory.

Goten's tongue explored the inside of his mouth, expertly tickling the roof of his mouth in a way that drove him completely crazy. His hands found their way under the thin fabric of Goten's shirt and hungrily explored his torso. Trunks' was already on fire. He pressed his hips into Goten's with urgency. It was times like this that he wished that he knew Instant Transmission. He could not wait to get Goten into that bedroom.

They were interrupted by a ding as the elevator stopped on the 5th floor. Goten reluctantly pulled himself off the already panting prince. The doors opened and an elderly building resident climbed slowly into the elevator. Trunks threw his head back against the elevator wall with an audible growl and stared at the ceiling trying to control his breathing. The elderly woman pushed the button for the 6th floor and the doors slid closed slowly—ever so slowly. Goten cleared his throat and attempted to hide the very obvious bulge in his pants by folding his hands over it. Trunks didn't even bother, although his leather pants were clearly straining to contain his building excitement. He looked like he wanted to blast the poor old woman right through the metal doors. The elevator lumbered up one story and the unwanted passenger disembarked.

Goten didn't even wait for the doors to close behind the old woman before he attacked the other's neck with wet kisses. "One story? One story?" Trunks repeated. "Interrupted us for one fucking story." He could be pretty emotional when it came to sex, Goten thought, and smiled against his friend's neck.

"It's all for the better," he assured the older boy. "You'd probably be finished already if we hadn't taken a break. You're excitable tonight."

"I know, Go-chan." Trunks whined, staring down at his other half with lust-filled eyes. "It's what you do to me. I can't help myself." With that he spun his friend towards the wall and crushed his lips against Goten's. Before they knew it the elevator doors opened again, this time signaling their destination. Both boys quickly disentangled themselves out of habit in case Gohan should be in the hallway. Trunks produced the apartment key and Goten wrapped his arms around his friend's waist as he struggled with the lock. They slowly opened the door, on alert for Gohan, but the apartment was dark.

_Thank god he goes to bed so early_, Trunks thought gratefully. The two boys scrambled across the lightless apartment, stumbling over the computer and video game wires they had strung across the living room earlier. "Shit!" Goten exclaimed, falling face first towards the hardwood floor. He grabbed at Trunks' shirt on the way down and the two collapsed, laughing, on top of each other.

"Control yourself, Goten," Trunks playfully chided. "You can rip my clothes off when we get to the bedroom." The process of untangling themselves from the cords caused a pile of dishes perched precariously on the edge of the coffee table to fall to the floor with a loud crash. "Shit, shit, shit!" they whispered almost in unison. Then they held their breaths waiting for Gohan to emerge from his room to investigate, but he did not.

"We should probably be less messy." The thought suddenly occurred to Goten.

"Yeah," Trunks agreed. "Starting tomorrow."

They finally made it into the bedroom and shut the door. Glazed brown eyes stared into heavily lidded blue. Again lacing his fingers through Goten's hair Trunks landed a kiss that took the other's breath away. Goten literally felt like he could not breathe. Something about Trunks' presence was so utterly intoxicating, and it had always been Goten's undoing. In a way, he resented his best friend's ability to almost steal the life out of him. The other demi was strong, charismatic, seductive. He could make Goten feel like the most important person in the world, or the smallest, depending on his mood. And when he did hurt Goten, he thought it perfectly acceptable to buy his good graces back with material possessions. It was a part of their relationship that had become clearer to Goten as they'd grown older.

Even though the idea made him feel unbearably guilty, lately Goten couldn't shake the feeling that there might be something else out there. Trunks had dominated his life since practically the day he was born. And, although he cared for his friend immensely, he couldn't help but wonder if, in another relationship, he wouldn't always be made to feel the powerless one. In truth, Goten had hoped that when the boys went off to separate colleges—as he was sure they would—maybe he would be able to break his habit of falling automatically in line behind Trunks. Goten had not foreseen his friend giving up the chance to go to Weston so that they could be at school together. And, even though he knew he should be grateful to have such a loyal friend, he often felt only . . . suffocated.

Almost as if reading his thoughts, Trunks broke the kiss. Their lips parted, glistening with each others' moisture. Trunks pressed his sweat-slicked forehead against Goten's. "Tell me you love me, Goten," he breathed against his friend's lips. Damn he was emotional tonight, Goten cursed mentally. For the first time, he didn't know what to say to his friend's request. Their lips brushed together but Goten knew Trunks wouldn't kiss him again until he had answered the question. Quite frankly, he was tired of always giving in to Trunks. But he knew it wasn't his friend's fault. He had a naturally dominating personality. Since they were kids, Goten had been the weaker one, physically, socially, and mentally. It made sense for Trunks to be the leader. But now Goten felt ready to make his own path. Out of the shadow of the prince. He just wished it didn't mean that he had to leave his best friend behind. But knowing Trunks, he felt sure there could be no in-between. With him, it was all or nothing and Goten dreaded the day he would eventually have to make that decision.

"Goten. Do you love me?" Trunks was looking directly into his eyes now, searching. Goten was afraid that his friend could see what he was thinking. Who knew? They had been inseparable since childhood. Maybe Trunks _could _read his mind by now.

Did he love Trunks? The truth was it was complicated.

But considering their present circumstances, all he said was, "Mmm-hmm." Then he slid around behind his friend, kissing his neck to avoid saying anything else. Trunks relaxed a bit in Goten's embrace. _Crisis averted, for now_, the younger boy thought, but a cold feeling was creeping up inside of him. Trunks seemed somehow colder, too. It was as if both somehow knew that something was happening that they couldn't control.

***

As soon as the boys disentangled themselves, the tenderness of the moment began to wear off for Goten. Something else was hanging in the air. Something that could no longer be ignored. In silence, they both leafed through the clothes on the floor, finding the ones they had hastily shed. Trunks slid his boxer briefs on and rested on the edge of the bed. He stared at Goten. "Are you going somewhere?" he asked, watching his friend slide his jeans on.

"Yeah, home." Goten's voice was quiet but unapologetic. He had to be assertive with Trunks or his friend would never take him seriously.

"Why? It's late and we have early classes tomorrow. You're better off just staying here."

"I know. But Chichi is probably hysterical by now since I haven't been home in two days. Let me go home and appease her. I'll see you again first thing in the morning."

"Damn." A sexy grin was spreading across the prince's face. "I was hoping we could do that again tonight."

It was now or never, Goten supposed. "Actually, I think we should . . . maybe stop doing it . . . for awhile." He kept his eyes trained on his feet, pretending he was intensely focused on putting his shoes on. But he was sure his heart didn't beat at all as he waited for Trunks to respond.

Finally, Trunks laughed. "But why? It was good, wasn't it?" He really couldn't see what Goten was getting at. Unless . . . . He blinked. "Don't you like being with me anymore?"

"Well, yeah," the younger boy answered quietly, not meeting his friend's eyes. "But . . . ."

"But what, Goten?"

"Don't you ever wonder . . . if . . . maybe—." He stumbled. He could feel Trunks' eyes on him, burning holes into his skin. "Maybe there's something else out there."

"Like _what_." It wasn't a question. It was a dare. He was daring Goten to finish that thought.

"Like something different!" The younger boy was getting angry now. He had a point and he wasn't going to let Trunks intimidate him out of making it. "We've been each other's first everything for as long as I can remember! First kiss, first fuck. Hell, you're my only friend, and I'm yours."

"So, what's wrong with that?" Trunks' voice was softer now. The question was sincere.

"Nothing . . . ." As Goten's anger wore off, the guilt returned. "I just can't help but wonder sometimes. That's all."

"Oh." The silence in the room was deafening. Finally, after several minutes, Trunks spoke. "Go home to your mommy, Goten. I guess I'll see you when I see you."

"Stop it, Trunks. Don't be like that. You'll see me in the morning, ok?"

"Fine." Trunks turned away from his friend. He knew he was being immature but he didn't care. He had never imagined Goten could hurt him this badly. He was strong. Hell, the royal blood of a warrior race coursed through his veins. How could someone possibly hurt him this badly with words alone? It was unbearable. Seconds later he heard the bedroom door open and close as the culprit let himself out. In the distance, he heard the front door open and close as well and Goten was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The next morning, Gohan dutifully made his way down the hall to Trunks' bedroom. Before he left for work, he wanted to make sure his roommate was awake and would make it on time to class. As he approached the door, he noticed it was already slightly ajar. Knocking quietly, Gohan waited for an answer before pushing the door open slowly. He was slightly hesitant to open it at all, because he was sure he'd heard Trunks come home with someone last night. But he had to make sure the teenager was up before he left because Bulma would question him about it when he arrived at Capsule. Luckily Trunks was there, sitting on the bed alone. Gohan breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey, kiddo," he said.

"Oh." Trunks looked up in surprise, as though he had not previously realized Gohan was there. "Hey Gohan." His voice was emotionless. His normally bright eyes were glazed and even a little red. Gohan wondered if he had been crying. Trunks stared off into the distance again.

"You okay?" Gohan's brow creased in worry.

"Yeah," Trunks said. "Just tired."

"Ah." Gohan accepted his explanation, not wanting to pry as to the reason he was so tired. From what he had heard last night, the younger man probably had good reason to be tired. "Well, just make sure you and your friend get to university on time, okay, Trunks?" Gohan's voice was soft as Trunks seemed rather fragile at the moment.

"Huh? What friend?" The younger man continued to stare forward, seemingly distracted.

"Oh, um—just I thought someone was with you last night. I'm sorry."

"Oh, it was just Goten. He went home though."

Gohan frowned in confusion. "No, I meant when you got home from the bar—" He knew Goten had been there earlier but— Well, clearly there was some miscommunication. Either way, it was none of his business. "Nevermind," Gohan said. "I'll see you tonight around dinner time."

"'Kay."

After Gohan left, Trunks slid himself out of bed and made his way to the closet. He grabbed the first pair of jeans he could find and slid a clean Capsule Corp. t-shirt over his head. He padded into the bathroom and took in his reflection in the mirror. He looked like crap. He had barely slept at all and it was entirely Goten's fault. Why did the other boy suddenly need to question everything? Why couldn't he just be happy? Surely, Trunks was all he needed to be happy. Wasn't he? Goten's words had made Trunks question his own self-worth and had swiftly brought out the sense of failure that the young prince irrationally harbored. He constantly felt unable to live up to his father's expectations. But now he apparently wasn't enough for Goten either. Again his eyes stung as the tears threatened to fall.

_Pull yourself together, Trunks,_ he mentally chastised himself for being so pathetic. Splashing some water on his face, he tried to focus on something else. School. Yes, school was more important than Goten. This morning he had physics. He had always liked physics. Maybe the class would take his mind off things. Except that Goten was also in it. Trunks had insisted they take as many classes together as possible. And in the back of his mind he was vaguely aware of some reading assignment they were supposed to do for today, which he had carelessly disregarded in favor of going out and getting drunk with Goten.

_So much for class providing a welcome distraction_, he thought as he exited the apartment.

***

Goten walked into the classroom with five minutes to spare. He heaved a sigh of relief, but his breath caught in his throat when he saw Trunks already seated in the back row. Between Chichi's yelling at him for not calling home in two days and his worry over his fight with Trunks, he had not gotten much sleep last night. But his friend looked even worse than he did. He hoped desperately that he could still smooth things over with Trunks. Although he had meant what he'd said the night before, he wanted more than anything to remain friends with his longtime companion.

Trunks could feel Goten approaching and was already on edge by the time the other demi reached the back row. Goten laughed nervously, "Hey Trunks, how are you?"

"How do I look?" Trunks asked sarcastically.

"Well . . . I have to admit purple facial hair isn't exactly flattering." Goten's attempt at humor was not well received.

"And I have to say 8-inch spikes make you look just like your dad. You are so Planet Vegeta." Trunks rolled his eyes. He knew that Goten, one, hated when people compared him to Goku and, two, was desperately afraid of anyone finding out he was half-alien. It had always annoyed Trunks how desperate Goten was to fit in.

"Shhh!" Goten hissed, sliding down in the seat next to Trunks and glancing around to see if anyone was within earshot. They both looked up as Tiffany and Kim, the coeds who had introduced themselves the previous day at lunch, started to giggle. Tiffany whispered something to her friend. Trunks looked at Goten then and saw the horrified look on his face as he realized that they had probably heard what Trunks said.

_What, does he like that girl or something? _Trunks wondered. _Is this giggling idiot the person he thinks can replace me? Is this what's 'out there' that he's so excited to find?_ Trunks looked at his friend incredulously. The prince then began shifting back and forth in his chair. In a slightly louder voice, one he was sure the girls could hear, he exclaimed, "Damn, Goten, my ass is killing me this morning. You just couldn't go easy on me last night, could you?" He reached over and pushed Goten's long black bangs behind his right ear, flashing him a sweet smile. Goten's eyes widened and his jaw went slack. At that, the girls' giggling got twice as loud and their whispering twice as fierce.

Trunks got up from his seat and took his books in his hand. Shooting a glare that spoke volumes at Goten, he walked calmly out of the room. He had no reason to stay any longer. With that little stunt he had accomplished two things for the price of one. He had succeeded in embarrassing Goten, which had been his original goal. And he had confirmed his biggest fear: that Goten was embarrassed of _him_.

***

Trunks' calm demeanor disappeared as soon as he walked outside. The cool fall breeze stung his eyes and he didn't bother to try to stop the tears from falling. He only wanted to put as much distance between himself and the school as possible. He started out for home, but stopped in his tracks, worried that Gohan might come home for lunch and find him there, skipping classes. Though, maybe he could talk to Gohan about all this. _No_, he banished the thought from his head. Gohan would never understand. First of all he didn't know about the relationship that the boys had shared and if he found out, Trunks had no idea how he would take it. The last thing he needed was another person telling him what he felt was wrong.

He looked around, wondering where he should go. Capsule Corp.? No, Vegeta would be there. Trunks loved his father, but he was not the most sympathetic person. And he would probably call Bulma, who would come home and question him about why he wasn't in school. He would just have to kill time until the evening.

Trunks began to wander in the general direction of his apartment when he saw the bar that he and Goten had been in the night before. Against his better judgment, he decided to go inside. The atmosphere had been nice and it looked like they had some good food, not to mention a large selection of liquor. Both of which he figured he could use right now.

At this hour, the place was almost deserted. Only a few unsavory looking characters were seated inside. _The type that normally drink before noon_, Trunks thought, now realizing he had become part of that crowd. He took a seat at the far end of the long wooden bar. "What would you like, young man?" the older gentleman asked.

"To not feel feelings anymore," Trunks answered dryly.

"Well you've come to the right place."

Without any further questions, the bartender began mixing a stiff-looking drink. A few of Trunks' fellow patrons lifted their glasses and mumbled, "Hear, hear." Obviously, he was not the only one who came here to drink away his problems. He began to relax, feeling that he was in good company.

Taking a large gulp of the drink that had been plunked down in front of him, he enjoyed the feeling of the liquor stinging his throat. It was a feeling that meant soon he would be too drunk to obsess over Goten. Yes, sweet oblivion. That was what he needed. Passing his platinum MasterCard to the bartender he said, "Keep 'em coming. And a round for my friends, too."

"Hear, hear!" The other men at the bar were much more animated this time.

***

Several hours later, Trunks was seated at the center of the bar, animatedly filling his newfound friends in on Goten's betrayal. "Eighteen years!" he exclaimed. "Eighteen years we were best friends—can you believe that?" He clapped his right hand over his heart "And he says he wants to know what else is out there." Trunks leaned his entire upper body over the bar and put a finger in the bartender's understanding face. "Do you know what that ish?" he asked, slurring slightly. His legs dangled in midair behind him, as he crossed and uncrossed his ankles, balancing on his stomach. "That's. Messed. Up." With the last word he nearly poked the bartender's eye out.

"Whoooaa there, buddy," said the rough-looking man sitting to the right of him. "Don't get too wound up there." He put his hands on Trunks' waist and guided him back to his stool, saving the bartender from any further theatrics.

But the man to his left said, "Hey the boy's got good reason to be mad. Ish hard to find a good friend nowadays, and his friend doesn't appreciate him at all! He don't know how lucky he ish." The man pounded his fist on the bar to drive home his point.

Trunks shook his head in agreement. In the back of his mind, he knew these guys were only being nice to him because he was buying all the drinks. Still, it didn't matter. It felt good to have someone on his side, even if he had to buy their allegiance. "I have to . . . ." He nodded in the direction of the bathroom and slid off the bar stool. The room spun slightly as Trunks stood up. Attempting to blink away his double vision, he made his way towards the restrooms. _What time is it?_ He wondered. _I've got to get home and sleep this off before Gohan gets there. _Trunks couldn't imagine how angry he'd be if he knew this was how the young prince had spent his day. Trunks entered the bathroom and approached the urinals. Steadying himself with an arm against the wall, he relieved himself with a sigh. As he washed his hands, the restroom door opened and Trunks recognized the man who entered as one of the bar patrons. He nodded in acknowledgement.

"Hey, buddy," the other man said. "Listen, I hope you don't mind I followed you in here. I just wondered if you'd be interested in trying something." Trunks regarded him with narrowed eyes and made a fist with his right hand. This guy would be very sorry if he tried anything weird. "No, no, friend!" The man seemed to realize that his words had come out the wrong way. "I just mean that, well, you look like you got some money to spend and I might have something you want." The man started to reach towards the waistband of his pants. Trunks began cracking his knuckles with a look that told the other he should stop talking right now if he wanted to leave the bathroom in one piece. "Wait, wait! This isn't coming out right. Here, look." The man produced a small baggy from his jeans, filled half-way with a grainy white powder. He lifted both his hands above his head to show he meant no harm.

Trunks looked at the baggy. He knew what it was. He and Goten had not exactly been saints during their teenage years. Trunks felt a sudden shockwave run through his body at that particular memory and again steadied himself against the wall. He rubbed his eyes, trying to force the images of he and Goten out of his mind.

"Come on, you can try it on the house. If you like what I'm offering, I'll sell you this bag for fifty zeni. It's the purest you can get in West City." The man paused for a minute to let Trunks consider the offer. Then he added, "You look like you could use a pick me up. This stuff'll clear your head, friend."

The guy had a point. The stimulant effect of the stuff might wake Trunks up a bit from his alcohol-induced grogginess. Maybe even enough that Gohan wouldn't notice his inebriation. After they made the illicit transaction, both men made their way back to the bar. "What time is it?" Trunks asked the bartender. "I have to get home before Gohan does."

"Well, it's about five o'clock, there, sonny."

_Shit! _Gohan would be home any minute. Trunks threw the bartender a generous tip and took leave of his bar mates. He didn't even notice as three of them locked eyes and then quickly followed him outside.

***

The inebriated demi decided that the streets were far too busy for him to take off and fly home. But he did know a shortcut to his apartment through a nearby side street. Heading quickly off in that direction, he tried to locate Gohan's energy signature to see if he was home yet. But in the state he was in, he couldn't lock in onto anything. His poor concentration was soon interrupted by the sound of scuffling feet behind him. Trunks continued along the narrow side street but was stopped in his tracks by what he swore was the sound of a semi-automatic handgun being cocked. _What the fuck?_

He turned around to see three of the men from the bar spread out in a semicircle behind him. The man on the left was the one who had followed him into the bathroom. "Hey, friend," he said. But the ass-kissing tone had left his voice and been replaced by a threatening one. "Look, we don't wanna hurt ya. We just come to relieve you of the rest of that cash in your wallet." _Oh you have got to be kidding me, _Trunks thought as he rolled his eyes skyward. This was the last thing he needed today.

"Listen, guys," he warned, "you really don't want to do this."

"Come on pretty boy," the man in the middle coaxed. He was the one holding the gun. "We've got families to feed and you've got your little boyfriend to get home to." He laughed. "Let's make this snappy."

Trunks slowly raised his right hand and held his fingers out in front of the snickering man. "Snap," he whispered. His thumb and middle finger clicked against each other as, in the same instant, he ascended to Super Saiyan. Three sets of eyes grew wide with confusion and fear and the demi took the chance to relieve the man of the gun that was staring him in the face. With a kick that none of the men could even see, he sent it flying against a nearby brick wall where it smashed into pieces.

Before any of the men could recover their composure, Trunks flew forward and grabbed the middle man by his collar. Pulling him off the ground, he held the man's face a few inches above his own. The guy's toes scraped on the pavement as he gasped for breath. Trunks gritted his teeth and tightened his grip. Then, before he could do something he knew he'd later regret, he tossed the would-be criminal in the direction of the same brick wall. He hit the bricks and then the pavement with a thud.

Trunks looked at the other two men who stood frozen in place, not sure what they had just seen. He returned to his normal state just as quickly as he had transformed. "Let that be a lesson to you not to sneak up on people in dark alleys, _friend_." He then turned and continued in the direction he had been traveling as the frightened bar patrons rushed over to the aid of their wounded comrade. Trunks knew the groaning man would be fine. He had not so much as broken a bone, but it had taken an enormous amount of restraint. Trunks noticed that he was rather dizzy, though, which was strange because he had not exerted any energy at all except to make his transformation. Then he remembered that he hadn't eaten anything today. _That must be it_, he thought. By the time he made it to the end of the alleyway, he had to rest against the wall. He tried to focus on a street sign and willed the rest of the scenery to stop spinning around him but it wasn't working. _What the hell? _Making his way out onto the lighted part of the main street, he heard a woman yell as he almost crashed into her. "Sorry, sorry," he mumbled. _Focus, Trunks_, he told himself as he spotted the door to his building on the next block. Using handrails, fences, light posts, and whatever else he could find to steady himself, he made the short walk to the door.

Francis, the door man regarded him with concern. "Mr. Briefs, are you okay?" he asked, opening the door quickly for the young man. Trunks attempted to say something, but his blood was rushing in his ears and he wasn't sure whether anything was coming out of his mouth. The last things he heard were Gohan shouting his name and the sound of his body hitting the pavement with a loud smack.


	4. Chapter 4

daughteralucard--Thanks for being, like, my only reviewer :) Glad you are enjoying it!

**Chapter 4**

When he woke up, Trunks could hear a voice, but it sounded distant. "I'm sorry I can't be there today, Bulma. Trunks is sick. I think it'd be better if I stayed home with him."

Trunks blinked his eyes. He was on the couch in the living room of their apartment. The room was dark, but he could see from the glow behind the drawn curtains that it was sunny outside. _I'm sick? _he wondered, vaguely registering the words. Then he noticed the clammy feel of his hands. No, wait, his whole body felt like that. And his head—oh god, his head! It felt as if it had been split in two. He reached up and miserably raked his fingers through his hair, trying to hold his head from splitting apart completely. "No, Bulma!" the voice continued, a little too loudly for Trunks' liking. "There's no need for you to come over here, I promise. He'll be fine. I'm sure I can handle it. Yes. I know, and I'll make it up on Sunday, I promise. I'll call you this afternoon, okay? Bye."

The conversation ended and Trunks thanked Dende above for the sweet silence. He closed his eyes again, deciding to ignore the waves of nausea that were beginning to wash over him, and welcomed unconsciousness once more as it mercifully overtook him.

***

After hanging up the phone, Gohan returned to the spot where he had spent most of the last eight hours—sitting on the coffee table by the couch where Trunks lay. He looked over the sleeping Saiyan again, trying to gauge whether anything in his condition had changed in the few minutes that he was on the phone. There was a light sheen of sweat on the other demi's face and neck. He was covered in blankets but Gohan imagined his whole body was probably clammy and warm. His sweat smelled of alcohol. That was why Gohan had dissuaded Bulma from coming over. He was pretty sure that Trunks wasn't really sick, he was plastered. And Gohan doubted if it was something his mother would want to see.

After assessing his condition the night before, Gohan had decided that he just needed to sleep it off. His worst injury seemed to be the cut on his forehead that was caused by his fall on the pavement outside. But his heart had been beating abnormally fast when Gohan picked him up off of the street, so he decided to keep an eye on him until the toxins made their way out of his system. So far he hadn't vomited, or seized, but had simply slept. And Gohan was waiting patiently for him to wake up to make sure his diagnosis had been correct.

Trunks looked so calm and placid as he slept. It was the only time the boy ever reminded Gohan of his future self. Gohan had watched with interest as Trunks grew into an adult, and wondered if the handful of a little boy that he had known most of his life could ever really become the intense and serious young man Gohan had met for several fleeting days as a child.

But it had become clear just how different the same person could be if he grew up in a world full of peaceful luxury instead of surrounded by tragedy and destruction. And, although he wouldn't wish Mirai Trunks' fate on anyone, Gohan sure wished this Trunks had an ounce of the other's self control or humility. Or his selflessness or sense of purpose. Or his heroic dignity. . . . Or, well, he couldn't really pick just one thing. Any of them would be an improvement.

But he supposed he should be grateful that young Trunks was able to grow into a man with all of his innocence and playfulness still intact. All of his irritating, infuriating, irresponsible playfulness still intact.

Gohan shook his head and wrote off his moodiness to sleep deprivation. After all, it wasn't Trunks' fault that he had grown up in a world devoid of disaster and despair. Actually, it was probably Gohan's fault. At least in part. He had killed Cell after all. Before moving in with Trunks he hadn't thought anyone could ever make him regret that.

He rested his chin in his hand and wearily glanced at his roommate again. He vaguely wondered if his brother had had any part in this. Whenever one got into trouble, the other was never far away. But Goten hadn't been with Trunks when he'd shown up at the apartment, and Gohan had more pressing matters to tend to, such as what to do with the unconscious Saiyan prince.

He leaned down to listen to Trunks' heartbeat again, glad that it seemed to have returned to normal. It probably wouldn't be long until Trunks woke up. Gohan yawned. Then maybe he could get some sleep . . . .

***

Trunks was unsure how much time had passed when he next awoke. He was sure of one thing, though. The churning in his stomach could no longer be ignored. He groaned and attempted to roll from the couch where he had been dozing. A heavy weight on his chest was holding him back. Looking down, through blurred vision the image slowly became clearer. Black, spiky hair. That familiar scent and energy. "Goten," he croaked. Maybe his friend could tell him what they had done last night to end up this sick. Trunks snaked his clumsy fingers through the hair, grateful for the human contact. "What happened?" he managed to gasp.

"You tell me," came the other's groggy answer. But the voice wasn't playful and understanding, as Goten's would have been. It wasn't sympathetic and soft. It was tired. It was accusing. It was mean!

It was Gohan.

"Ugghh . . . ." Trunks moaned miserably as Gohan lifted himself off the other's chest. Gohan realized he must have fallen asleep while listening to Trunks' heartbeat. His back ached due to the graceless way he had collapsed, ass on the table, head on the couch. But, if the sounds of Trunks' heaving sighs were any indication, his pain was nothing compared to what the other boy was going through.

"Ughhh, I'm gonna be sick."

Gohan handed him something cold and plastic. Whatever it was, Trunks thought, it was going to get puked on. As he sat up, though, he noticed the plastic thing he was holding was a bucket. He wanted to thank Gohan but all possible thoughts were quickly drowned out by the sound of retching.

_Well, that was unpleasant!_ Trunks mentally complained as he threw himself back against the cool leather of the couch and tried to regain what little composure he had. "Gohan," he gasped very seriously, "I think I'm going to die!"

Since it seemed that Trunks was back to his normal self, Gohan silently reaffirmed his prognosis. "You are not going to die," he said. His voice was both sympathetic and amused. But then he turned serious. "Although there were a few moments last night when I wasn't 100% sure about that." He continued, "I felt you go Super Saiyan a few blocks away. Then I felt your power fluctuating like crazy. That's why I was rushing out of the building to find you when you showed up. What the hell happened?"

The teen just closed his eyes and buried his face in the pillow that must have been placed under his head as he slept. He realized he had also been covered with a blanket. Gohan must have done all this. Trunks lifted the blanket and peered underneath. He still wore the jeans and t-shirt he had put on the day before. His shoes had been removed. He didn't smell too great but he felt too awful to care.

The events of the last 48 hours began to unfold in one cloudy corner of his mind. "I went to a bar," he said, more to himself than in answer to Gohan's question. "Some guys followed me out. They wanted money." But that was the least of his concerns. As he reached further into the recent past, he found the memories that were causing him waves of dread, even as the nausea fought them for dominance.

Being with Goten. Fighting with Goten. Storming out of class after seeing Goten . . . .

"So that's why you powered up?"

"Yeah," he glanced at his roommate who still looked confused. Confused and worried. "I didn't really need to. They were just common thieves. But I—I wasn't really thinking straight." He looked away from Gohan as he said the words.

"I figured that." Gohan, too, looked at the ground. He didn't want to pry into Trunks' personal life but he felt responsible for him ever since they moved in together. In fact, Bulma had made it pretty clear that he _was _responsible for him. He figured that if he would have to answer to Bulma, then Trunks should have to answer to him. "So, did you go to class yesterday?"

"For a little while."

"Was Goten with you when all this happened? Is he okay?"

"Yes, he's fine. He wasn't with me. Gohan, I really don't want to talk about it right now." The older man didn't know whether to be mad at Trunks or worried for him. What he had done was ridiculously irresponsible. Had he just been goofing off, or did he have some kind of a problem? _Maybe he's just trying to drive me completely insane_, Gohan concluded.

Trunks didn't want to tell the other demi what he had been so upset about. How could he have explained it, anyway? Goten had said that he didn't think they should "do it" anymore. What did that mean? Did it mean anything at all? Maybe he had simply been in a mood the other night. It wouldn't be the first time he had gotten mad at Trunks for no apparent reason. _Stupid cranky Goten, _Trunks cursed as a fresh stab of pain shot through his cranium.

"I'm sorry, Gohan," he whispered. "Please don't be mad." And then he looked pleadingly at the other man. "Is there any way you can make it hurt less?" Gohan swam in his blue eyes.

_Dammit, _he cursed to himself. _I had planned on yelling at him!_ Since they had moved in together, he had noticed that Trunks could be alarmingly disarming. He found it difficult to stay mad at him for any length of time, no matter how badly he wanted to. He was entirely conscious of the righteous anger that had been building in him all night giving way to sympathy and even a desire to comfort the little brat. He shook his head at his own weakness. "Here," he said, pressing a glass to the younger boy's mouth. "Drink."

Trunks gulped down a few sips. "Ugh! This is nothing but tepid water!" He whined and squirmed on the couch, taking deep, loud breaths that exaggerated his misery. "Aren't you some kind of doctor or something? Can't I have a saline drip?"

"Yeah, sure, let me just go get the intravenous tubing and hypodermic needles I carry everywhere with me," Gohan answered sarcastically. "I'm a Ph.D., not a medical doctor. Thank you for your complete disinterest in my career. Now drink the water."

Trunks made a face, but downed the glass of water. Handing the empty cup back to Gohan, he reluctantly mouthed a "thank you." In a minute, Gohan was back with another glass.

"As long as you're awake," he instructed, "keep drinking this. I know it doesn't seem like much, but it eventually _will_ make you feel better."

"Eventually?" Trunks' eyes widened.

"Don't worry." Once again he took pity on the younger demi. "I think the worst is over. When you're able to keep them down, eat the crackers I left on the table for you. It's been a long time since you ate. They should help to make you feel better, too." Gohan had stood up and was backing away from the couch. Suddenly it occurred to Trunks that he might be leaving and Trunks couldn't bear the thought. Although a few minutes ago, he'd have given anything to make Gohan go away, now the thought of being alone seemed terrifying.

Without thinking, he reached out for Gohan's hand. "Where are you going?" he asked, unable to keep the alarm out of his voice.

Gohan looked slightly confused. "Thought I'd better wash this out." He held the bucket in his other hand.

"Oh," Trunks answered weakly, letting Gohan's hand slip from his.

After a few minutes, the older man returned and placed the freshly washed plastic bin back in place beside the couch. Trunks felt his face becoming hot with embarrassment. "Gohan," he started, looking down at his hands. "I had a reason. I mean—not that there's any good reason for, you know, doing what I did, but— I mean, I wasn't just goofing off. Well, I was but—"

"Shhhh." Gohan put a hand absently on the lavender head as though he was comforting a child. "You don't have to explain yourself to me, Trunks. I've known you for a long time."

"Thanks—." Trunks started, but then his eyes narrowed and he stopped himself. Was he just insulted? Did Gohan mean that he expected such behavior from Trunks? He considered confronting his roommate about the comment, but as he looked up he noticed Gohan was already hunched over some paperwork at his desk on the other side of the room. Then he remembered the faraway-sounding conversation he had heard this morning in his half-sleep. Gohan had stayed home from work to look after him.

Sighing, he realized his roommate had good reason to think him nothing more than an irresponsible child. He had pretty much been impossible since they'd moved in together. He was vaguely aware that Gohan had been cleaning up after him. And, of course, he had probably been late for work on the mornings he had to drag Trunks and Goten out of bed. Now he was missing work altogether. Trunks made a mental note to go easy on Gohan for awhile. _I will not be a pain in the ass, I will not be a pain in the ass, I will not be a pain in the ass,_ _at least not for the rest of this week…._

***

By evening, Trunks was feeling a bit better. Gohan had made dinner and it smelled amazing. "I didn't know you could cook," Trunks said, watching the older demi balance two trays heaped with roast pork, steamed vegetables, and rice as he walked carefully to the living room. He sat one in front of Trunks and placed the other on his own lap. Lavender brows rose in delight at the sight of a huge piece of chocolate cake on the tray for dessert. "My, my, Gohan, you've outdone yourself!"

"Well, I guess I went all out." He smiled proudly. "I like to cook, but don't ever have the time. It was kinda nice to have the day off today."

"Wow. I'm impressed. Makes me wonder why Videl would ever divorce you." Trunks caught the pained look that immediately flashed across Gohan's face. _Oops!_ he thought, cringing. Maybe it was too soon to be mentioning that so candidly. But he had meant it as a compliment.

"Were you born without that part of your brain which filters random thoughts before they come flying out of your mouth?"

"I'm sorry, Gohan," Trunks said softly. "I just mean that you're quite a catch."

"Well, thanks I guess." He restrained himself from bitterly mentioning that fact that Trunks' high opinion wasn't the one he was after right now. He still thought about Videl all the time. Not so much out of love or because he missed her, but because of the way it reminded him that he failed. Lately, he had been addicted to replaying that sentiment in his head.

For a while, they ate in silence. Then the phone rang, interrupting Gohan's morose thoughts. He jumped from the armchair where he was eating to answer. "Oh, hey, little bro!" he said cheerily into the phone. Trunks immediately stiffened. "Trunks? Yeah, he's right here—."

But Gohan stopped in the middle of the word when he saw Trunks' frantic expression. He shook his head vigorously from side to side, silently pleading with Gohan to lie for him. "Oh, actually, you know what, Goten?" he continued, his voice wavering only for a second. "He's actually, um, sleeping. Yeah, that's it, he's sleeping. You see, he was . . ." Gohan glanced at Trunks for approval. "He was sick today." He saw Trunks visibly relax.

Realizing the boys must be fighting, he easily answered Goten's next question. "No, I don't think it'd be a good idea if you came over, bro." He paused. "Because, um, well, it might be contagious!" He was a horrible liar, but luckily Goten was too trusting to question him. After a few minutes of small talk, he said goodbye.

Then Gohan made his way back into the living room, intending to ask Trunks what that was all about. But when he reached the couch where Trunks was resting, he saw that the younger demi was slumped back against the pillows, his arms protectively wrapped around himself, staring dejectedly at the floor. Worry overcame his curiosity. Alarmed, he only asked, "Hey, Trunks, are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm just—I'm going to go take a shower." Trunks didn't want to stick around to answer whatever questions Gohan may have. Plus, he really did need a shower. He tried unsteadily to get up from the couch and Gohan was immediately beside him. The last time he had seen Trunks standing was right before he fell outside their building the night before. Despite his thick Saiyan skull, Gohan was sure he had narrowly escaped a concussion. And he didn't look like he was feeling much steadier right now.

"Why don't you wait until you feel better?" Gohan asked.

"I feel fine," Trunks lied, as he steadied himself with a hand on the back of the couch. His weak knees supported him for almost three whole steps before giving out. But Gohan easily caught the slightly smaller man before he had a chance to fall. Trunks steadied himself again in Gohan's arms, but didn't attempt to move forward at all. He simply grasped Gohan's clean blue shirt and held onto him tightly. He rested his head on Gohan's shoulder and wrapped his arms around his back, shuddering slightly.

"Um, gee, Trunks . . . ." Gohan wasn't quite sure what to do. He just hugged his friend back and waited. Eventually Trunks' breathing slowed and became soft and regular again. Just when Gohan was beginning to wonder if Trunks hadn't fallen asleep on him, he felt his heavy head stir on his shoulder.

"Sorry," was all he said. And then, "I'm ready now."

They moved together toward Trunks' side of the apartment and Gohan helped him into the bathroom. "I can do it from here," Trunks promised, giving Gohan the okay to leave.

But Gohan wasn't so sure he could. "Um, alright," he agreed, not wanting to intrude. "But I won't be far."

Trunks nodded and started to take off his shirt. Gohan began running the shower for his roommate, turning the water to a comfortable temperature between warm and hot. As steam started to rise from the soft stream of water, he turned around to leave. But Trunks was leaning over the sink, looking positively miserable, bracing himself against the marble. His skin was broken out in goose bumps all over, but he was still sweating. _Man, he's in worse shape than I thought, _Gohan realized.

"You really did it this time, kid. Looks like you've got a case of the DTs. I hope you'll remember this next time you go out drinking."

"Ha, yeah . . ." the teen answered weakly. In his head he had already promised a million times today that he'd never drink again. Maybe getting off the couch wasn't such a good idea. Or maybe, it was the fact that Goten had called that had him all shaken up. . . . He pressed his face against the mirror in front of him, knowing he looked like an idiot, but grateful for the cool feel of the glass. "You know, maybe I do need some help after all."

"Sure," Gohan agreed, stepping over the wrinkled shirt on the ground and kneeling to help Trunks with his pants. Then he realized the slight awkwardness of the situation. He tried to look away as much as he could as he unbuttoned the other's jeans, figuring Trunks would feel more than a bit weird about Gohan undressing him. But the dejected and uncaring look on Trunks' face showed he had not much dignity left. He had already done all manner of embarrassing things in front of Gohan today. There would be time for modesty when he didn't feel like he had just been run over by a train.

Gohan slid his pants to the floor and Trunks stepped out of them, kicking them into his bedroom. But as he did so, his very last shred of dignity was stripped away along with his clothes. The tiny bag of white powder that Trunks suddenly remembered purchasing in one of his last moments of coherency was now laying on the bathroom floor; silently and completely ratting him out to Gohan.

Their eyes met. Gohan didn't have to say anything, because the shocked and angry look on his face said it all. But he spoke anyway. "Trunks!" There was the surprised tone. Then came the anger. "How could you? What were you thinking?"

"Umm . . ." his eyes searched the bathroom as if the answer was there somewhere. "I wasn't?"

Gohan tilted his head to the side, giving him a face that said 'that shit might work on your mother but it won't work on me.' Things were starting to make more sense, though, now that he knew exactly what Trunks had been on the day before.

"You know, powering up was the worst thing you could have done! Whatever you _ingested,_" he said disgustedly, "would have metabolized all at once when you went Super Saiyan. You could have fried your brain, you idiot!"

All of the humiliation Trunks had felt now turned to annoyance. The last thing he needed was a lecture from preachy Gohan. "You know," he said, turning his anger on Gohan, "if you're going to kneel down in front of me like that, I could think of better things for you to be doing than lecturing me!"

Gohan gasped and immediately jumped to his feet. "I don't know what to do with you," he admitted, flinging his arms out in exasperation.

"I thought my suggestion was pretty good," Trunks answered.

Gohan left the bathroom grumbling and slammed the door behind him. "You shouldn't be so uptight!" Trunks yelled, regretting it as soon his own loud voice made his head pound.

He was glad Gohan had left because he couldn't bear the distinct sound of disappointment dripping from his words. It was even worse than the physical pain he was experiencing, and that was saying a lot. _Why should I care what Gohan thinks, anyway? _he wondered. But for some reason he did.

A half hour later, Trunks opened the door between his bathroom and bedroom and large clouds of steam preceded him into the room. Gohan was sitting cross-legged on his bed, leafing through a science book that Trunks recognized as his Anatomy 101 text, although he hadn't yet opened it himself. Gohan looked up. "Seems like you're feeling better."

"Yeah," Trunks sighed. The hot water from the shower and the dinner Gohan had made had done wonders to restore his strength. He even felt a little bad for making Gohan uncomfortable earlier. After all, he had spent the entire day taking care of him.

Trunks slid a pair of black sweatpants on and discarded the towel he had been wearing, then slipped under the covers alongside his roommate. "Thanks, Gohan, for everything," he said sleepily. "I really mean that." Trunks closed his eyes and leaned back against his pillow.

"You're welcome, kid." Gohan patted his shoulder and lifted himself soundlessly off the bed. But Trunks arm shot out towards him then.

"Please, stay," he asked. Gohan nodded his head in agreement. He should have been mad—as if he had nothing better to do with his time than watch Trunks Briefs sleep. But for some reason, he wasn't. Maybe it was the need that was conveyed in the request. He was sure he had heard some desperation there. And he didn't think Trunks wasn't trying to impose on him, it seemed he simply didn't want to be alone. And Gohan had to admit that, as insufferable as Trunks could sometimes be, it felt nice to be needed. So he watched the lavender-haired teen toss and turn until he fell into a restless sleep. And he continued to watch him for some time after.

***

Gohan woke up very pleased with himself. Once he had left Trunks' room, and cleared his head of the sympathetic thoughts that those blue eyes could evoke in him, he had been able to craft the perfect punishment for his young friend. Although he had doted on the sickly teen yesterday, he had something else in mind for today. Now that Trunks had recovered from the hangover from hell, he would need to learn that he couldn't pull stunts like that with impunity. He would have to deal with the wrath of Gohan. Watching out for Trunks was becoming more of a full-time job than Gohan had planned and he had to make an impression on the kid, or risk becoming his rag-doll for the next year that they lived together.

But how exactly to get through to him? Gohan had thought of the one person that Trunks respected unconditionally. The one person who could strike fear into his untamable heart. He had asked himself, what would Vegeta do? And that's when this great idea came to him.

At 8:00 a.m. on the dot, he rapped on his roommate's bedroom door. When a muffled groan was the only reply, Gohan opened the door. "Trunks, up and at 'em."

"Earth to Gohan," came the grumpy voice from under the covers, "it's Saturday."

Just as Gohan had suspected, gone was the vulnerable Trunks of yesterday and back was the sometimes arrogant, always headstrong Saiyan that Gohan knew. He wasn't sure that he was happy about the change. Some parts of yesterday had almost been nice.

"I know what day it is. Here, put this on."

Something soft but heavy landed on Trunks' head. It was some kind of clothing. Apparently Gohan thought he was going to get dressed at this hour. Not likely. And especially not in anything Gohan would pick out. He absently reached up to pull the unwanted garment off of him. But as he was about to throw it onto the floor, he recognized the fabric. It was Saiyan armor. He sat up.

"What's this?" he asked rhetorically, demanding Gohan explain himself.

"Oh, it's Saiyan armor," came the matter-of-fact answer.

Trunks was not amused. He knew damn well what it was. What he didn't know was why in the world he'd need to put it on.

"Ohh," Gohan said, pretending he just now understood the question. "Yeah, I thought we'd work out in the gravity room this morning."

"And why would we do that?"

Again, Gohan couldn't help but marvel at the difference between the worlds that he and Trunks grew up in. Never would Gohan question the need to train. It was important to stay in shape in case life on Earth was threatened. He knew well that it could happen when a person least expected it. For that reason, he still trained regularly, as did Goku, Vegeta, and Piccolo. But his suspicions that Trunks and Goten had slacked off these last few years were now confirmed.

"I need a training partner and I figure you owe me one."

"Umm, sorry, Gohan." Trunks' brain worked quickly. "I think I have some homework to do today or something. Yup, I'm sure I do." With that he rolled back over in bed and pulled the covers over his lilac head.

"I know all about your homework because I called your professors yesterday and got your assignments from them." Gohan effectively burst his bubble. "In fact, later tonight I'll help you with it. But I'm sure it won't take the whole day, so there's plenty of time to train this morning." With one deft movement, he pulled the covers off of Trunks and off of the bed altogether. "So get up."

The inflection with which he spoke the last few words left no out for Trunks. He didn't hear Gohan use his 'I'm serious' voice very often, but he knew better than to argue when he did. Besides that, his best excuse had already backfired and now, not only did he have to fight Gohan, but he'd be stuck doing homework all night on a Saturday. Brilliant, just brilliant.

A few minutes later, Trunks slowly entered the dining room and approached the table. He was still tired and he felt like an idiot in the Saiyan armor. He wore the classic blue spandex body suit with its yellow and white sleeveless vest. Gohan wore the sleeker, in Trunks' opinion, black and white model. "I look like an idiot," the younger demi complained.

"No you don't!" Gohan was sincere. He had loved the look of the Saiyan armor ever since he was a kid. "You look really cool. This stuff is great." He stood up and modeled his, thinking—wrongly—that he could get Trunks to share his enthusiasm. The teen had to smile, though, at Gohan's supreme dorkiness.

"You are such a nerd," he teased, pouring a bowl of cereal.

"You'll pay for that." Trunks recognized the threat as half joking, but half serious. He decided he'd better keep his mouth shut for the rest of breakfast. But at the thought of heading to Capsule Corp., he did have one more question.

He tried to sound nonchalant. "So, did you tell my parents about the other night?" he asked, trying to keep his eyes down, but nervously glancing between Gohan and his own breakfast cereal until the older demi finally answered.

"No, I didn't."

Trunks breathed an audible sigh of relief. The thought of Vegeta waiting for him in the gravity room was more than a little scary. Once, his father had found a pack of Bulma's cigarettes in Trunks' Capsule Corp. jacket. Bulma explained later that, wanting a smoke, she'd just grabbed the nearest warm coat and headed outside. They all had Capsule jackets, so it was an easy mistake to make. But when Vegeta found them, he didn't ask any questions. He only thundered into 13-year-old Trunks' room, pulled him by the hair from his seat next to Goten, and proceeded to school him in the lessons of healthy living.

It had ended with the promise that, "If you're bent on abusing your body, I'll gladly do the honors."

Then it had taken the construction crew two weeks to plaster the hole Vegeta had put in the bedroom wall when he tossed his son through it. And that was just cigarettes.

But Gohan had his own reasons for not telling on Trunks. If Vegeta was the unnaturally strict parent, Bulma was just the opposite. To her, Trunks could do no wrong. He was her pride and joy, he was beyond perfection, and while Gohan was sure someone would pay for Trunks' slip-up, it wouldn't be her son. It would be Gohan. Bulma would blame him for not watching Trunks better, for failing to protect him from himself. So they would keep this their little secret.

But that didn't mean Gohan would go easy on him. He saw the relieved look on Trunks' face, and wondered if he should warn him. He decided against it. Better to catch him off guard.

"You ready?" Gohan asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be." Then another disturbing thought struck. "We're not going to have to walk out of the building like this, are we?"

Gohan laughed. "I figure we can take off from the balcony outside your bedroom. Hopefully no one will notice."

A few minutes later, they touched down outside the huge building at Capsule Corp. headquarters that doubled as the Briefs' residence. Gohan headed straight for the outdoor gravity room. Trunks attempted to distract him, asking if they shouldn't first say hi to his mother, but Gohan was determined. As both of them stepped into the gravity chamber, Trunks put all thoughts of escape out of his mind and figured he had better focus on putting up a good fight. His roommate was fiddling with the control panel. "One-fifty ought to do it," he said, and Trunks felt the atmosphere around him grow thick and heavy. The crushing gravity hit him before he was ready and he felt his knees give a little before he steadied himself in the new environment.

_How embarrassing! _He thought. He had been working out in 150 times gravity when he was eight. The fact that it even affected him now was proof positive of how badly he had been slacking. He only hoped he'd righted himself before Gohan had noticed.

"Alright," Gohan said, ready to go. "Let's start with an easy warm-up." He put a boxing pad on each hand and indicated that Trunks would go first. The teen threw a few punches and then gradually increased the intensity of his hits as he got into the exercise. No matter how out of practice he was, the Saiyan in him felt right at home doing this. He incorporated a few expert roundhouse kicks and Gohan took them in stride. Had a normal person been holding the pads, he would have been kicked halfway across the city.

When Gohan felt Trunks was limber enough, he tossed the pads to the side.

"What about you?" his partner asked.

"Oh, I don't need a warm-up," Gohan answered, and something about the look in his eye made Trunks very nervous. The younger demi got into fighting stance and braced himself. Gohan came at him with a kick, but Trunks was able to block it. The force of the kick knocked him back a few feet, despite his quick reflexes. Gohan wasted no time making up the difference, as his long leg quickly closed the gap and caught Trunks' chin, sending him upwards into the air.

The young prince quickly recovered and shot a ki blast down at Gohan which he easily slapped away. Angry at the ease with which his roommate brushed off his attack, Trunks lunged towards him. His left foot was out in front, poised to land a damaging blow, but Gohan caught his ankle with his left hand and slammed him effortlessly to the floor.

Trunks lay there for a moment, annoyed at his own lack of practice. He should be much faster. He was really making it easy for Gohan to annihilate him. The other man extended a hand to help him up, which Trunks gladly accepted.

The second round was more intense. Trunks was intent on proving to Gohan that he hadn't turned to complete mush since the last time they'd fought together. But whatever level he brought himself up to, Gohan easily matched it and exceeded it. It wasn't long before he was literally wiping the floor with the teen. They continued that way for what felt like hours, until Trunks had finally had enough.

"Alright, Gohan," he said at last, thoroughly humbled and out-of-breath. "I know you're playing with me. Whatever level I take it up to, you're going one beyond. So why don't we just get down to it and you show me your full power. I'd like to finish this some time today."

"Okay," Gohan said, "if you think you're up for it."

Trunks nodded. Then he felt the hair lift from around his face. It blew first in front of his eyes and then straight up towards the ceiling as the immense power Gohan was raising reverberated around the too-small chamber.

_Shit, egging him on may have been a mistake, _Trunks thought to himself, as a blinding white aura began to surround the older demi. Nothing about his appearance changed save that the single lock of raven hair that fell across his eyes began to sway in the man-made whirlwind that encircled him. He exuded power that filled the gravity room and spilled out far beyond. For a moment, Trunks was completely overcome by it.

"Gohan . . . ." he breathed, but the sound was carried away on the waves of energy emanating from his sparring partner. And then his face flushed for a second as a long forgotten memory resurfaced. When he was a kid, the firstborn Son had seemed to him the most powerful man on Earth after his own father. And handsome, too. Trunks remembered that he'd been in awe of Gohan as a little boy. And when he had shown up to fight Buu where Trunks and Goten had failed, and saved them from being destroyed by the monster, he had truly become Trunks' hero. _I can't believe it, I had the hugest crush on Gohan when I was a kid!_ he thought.

But the whims of eight-year-olds were fickle, and aside from that, Gohan was soon engaged to Videl, so Trunks had quickly given up his silly infatuation. He remembered how he had made Goten promise that he would never get married and, satisfied with that, he had all but forgotten about the elder Son. But those giddy feelings came back to him now as he was struck once again by the sheer intensity radiating from this man.

Trunks only realized he was chuckling to himself when Gohan's voice broke through his thoughts. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing." Trunks shook his head, then powered up to his own maximum, planning to put up as good a fight as he could with the distinct knowledge that he was about to have his ass handed to him.

It suddenly occurred to him that all of this was punishment. Gohan hadn't merely wanted a training partner. He had brought Trunks here to beat the crap out of him for what he'd done. That's why he had so readily agreed to power up. _Tricky, tricky, _the young prince thought. But he knew that he deserved it. So instead of getting angry, he resigned himself to getting it over with as quickly as possible.

Gohan noticed the look of resignation on the teenager's face. Affirming the other boy's suspicions, he stated, "Alright, this is for scaring the shit out of me yesterday." Before Trunks even had a chance to move, Gohan was directly in front of him, burying his fist in Trunks' abdomen. The younger Saiyan doubled over and soon hit the wall of the chamber behind him with a deafening thud.

"And this," Gohan continued, "is for skipping class." His foot came up and met with the side of Trunks' jaw. The teen landed on all fours on the floor of the chamber. He shook it off and slowly got up, but he couldn't see Gohan anywhere. Then he realized, too late, that the other man was behind him. He felt Gohan's arm around his neck as he applied a headlock that Trunks knew would soon render him unconscious.

Gohan continued his low epithet at Trunks' ear. "Things are going to be different, Trunks. I'm expected to take care of you, so that's what I'm going to do. I'll be tracking your ki from now on and I'll know where you are at all times. I'm sorry to do it to you, my friend, but you've left me no choice." Gohan sounded genuinely upset at the position he found himself in.

But Trunks was rather enjoying it. Maybe it was his lightheadedness, or maybe he was truly a masochist, but getting knocked around by Gohan was quite a turn on. His head fell back against Gohan's shoulder in the hold, and he let himself be overtaken by the waves of ki that were all around him. The other man was so strong, it was difficult to concentrate. And Trunks could think of a million better ways to put that white-hot energy to use right there on the floor of the gravity room . . . .

"Focus, Trunks!" Gohan warned him, afraid the teen might actually pass out.

"I'm trying, Gohan," Trunks crooned. "But, you're making it so hard." He reached down and very conspicuously adjusted himself in the tight Saiyan armor. Gohan caught the double meaning and spun the younger boy around.

"This is no time for jokes," Gohan insisted. Apparently none of what he had said or done had any effect on the smaller Saiyan whatsoever. Trunks still failed to take things seriously, still failed to accept responsibility for his actions. _This kid is unbelievable! _Gohan thought. He put his right hand out so that it almost touched his roommate's chest. He tried the last thing he could think of that might work: direct threats. "Trunks, I care about you. A lot of people do. So that's why I'm telling you that if you ever pull another stunt like you did the other night," he promised, calmly but with definite conviction, "you can expect to deal with me." A blue ball of energy appeared between his palm and the yellow and white vest of armor.

Trunks no longer liked the position he was in. But the pain Gohan was about to inflict was the least of his concerns. He was more frustrated than he was fearful. He had realized that Gohan was one of very few people that he couldn't easily control. It was so simple to manipulate Bulma with a winning smile, or to get salespeople, classmates, even teachers to bend to his will with the flutter of eyelashes. And Goten, well up until recently he'd been the easiest of all. But Gohan was being downright impossible. "What's the point of saving me from overdose," he quipped, "only to kill me with a ki blast?"

Gohan regarded him for a moment. "More satisfying," he whispered, and then Trunks felt the sickening vibrations of the blast resounding through his chest. The room went completely dark when he hit the wall. He could hear the other man's voice, though it sounded far away again. "When you wake up, come inside. Your mom is making us lunch."

With that, Gohan left the dozing teen on the floor of the gravity chamber and headed inside. He knew that with the protective vest on, the hit was nowhere near enough to really hurt Trunks. But Gohan hoped it would be enough to knock some sense in to him.

***

When Trunks awoke, he had no desire to join the rest of the family for lunch. His father would taunt him for losing the morning's spar to Goku's spawn, his mother would question him about school and prod him about Goten, and Gohan would probably try to micromanage his caloric intake or something. He was awfully getting bossy, Trunks thought.

In a huff, he took off for the apartment. Slipping into his room via the sliding glass door of the balcony, he immediately peeled off his sweaty blue bodysuit. His muscles were already starting to tighten uncomfortably from the damage they had taken. And now that his clothes were off, he could see the brownish purple bruises forming on his skin. Grumbling, he ran a hot bath and added a few drops of bath gel that Bulma had given him.

"Luxuriate in this aromatic remedy for overworked and aching muscles," he read aloud from the back of the bottle. _I think I've earned the right to luxuriate today, _he thought, and lowered himself into the warm water.

But as soon as he began to relax, his thoughts drifted back to Goten. The last few days seemed like a strange dream. The two had started college together, had all their classes together, and had an awesome apartment to hang out in. To Trunks, everything had seemed perfect. Wasn't this what they had always wanted? A little voice in the back of his head answered, _No, it's what _you've_ always wanted. _But he ignored it. He and Goten had always been so in synch, always wanted the same thing. And then Goten had just thrown him this curve ball entirely out of left field.

Had he really suggested that they see other people? Trunks realized that in the back of his mind, he always figured that if he and Goten split, it would be because Trunks wanted to. He just assumed he'd always have Goten's love and admiration. His friend had always given it so freely, and Trunks had always found it so very easy to take. It occurred to him that he might have taken Goten for granted. Maybe just a little bit. And as he admitted the truth to himself, he couldn't help but feel a little ashamed of his self-centeredness.

He also had to admit that he never would have broken up with Goten. Mostly because he didn't know what to do without the other boy by his side. He truly needed him. It scared him to admit how much. He decided to try to talk to him at school on Monday and hope that they could work things out. He would simply make the other boy tell him what was wrong and then he would fix it. Yup, that would be the plan. Simple.

The young prince had almost drifted off in the relaxing bath, when he heard the sound of the balcony door. "Trunks?" Gohan called out through the bedroom, as he closed the door behind him. "You in here?"

Trunks realized with a start that he had left the bathroom door open. He thought about trying to close it, but realized it was no use. Gohan's eyes had already settled on him. "Did you really have to ask, Mr. I-can-sense-your-ki?"

"Not really," Gohan answered. "But I was trying to avoid walking in on a scene just like this one." He gestured to the bath and Trunks checked to make sure the bubbles blocked his nakedness from view. Then he noticed with interest that his roommate had brought him a plate of food from the luncheon. Trunks could tell his grandmother had wrapped it by the dozens of toothpicks sticking out of the food to hold up dozens more layers of plastic wrap. Ironically, it rarely occurred to her to use capsules.

Gohan cracked a goofy smile—actually he looked to be on the verge of laughter—and Trunks peeled his hungry eyes off the food for a moment to scowl at him. "Why don't you take a picture, it lasts longer."

"I wish I had a camera." Gohan didn't miss a beat. The image of a fully-grown Trunks splashing around in the bath, bubbles clinging to his lavender hair just brought back too many memories of bath time with Goten and Trunks when they were kids. Gohan made his way into the bathroom.

"What are you doing, Gohan?" Trunks voice was alarmed. "I don't know how you Sons live, but I wasn't raised in the woods! Have you ever heard the word privacy?'

Gohan ignored him and dipped his hand down into the water. When Trunks' mouth had dropped open just wide enough in shock, Gohan splashed the biggest handful of water he could manage at the other demi.

He sputtered and spit out the water, his eyes totally covered by wet blankets of violet hair. "Gohan, you cannot do this to me anymore, I'm not a child!" He had no sooner wiped the wet hair and bubbles out of his eyes than another soapy assault came. Trunks gasped at his roommate's audacity. Then he gave up on trying to reason with his tormenter and put both hands to use paddling water at Gohan as fast as he could, being careful not to drench his own lunch. Finally the older Saiyan backed into the bedroom and fell on his backside laughing hysterically.

"Well, I guess you won that one, Trunks!" he said good-naturedly.

The teen just stuck out his tongue and answered with a loud raspberry. When their laughter died off, Gohan looked up into amused pools of blue. "Why didn't you come to lunch?" he asked.

"Wasn't hungry."

"Liar." Gohan stood up and left the plate of food on the edge of the bed. "When you're done with your bubble bath come find me and we'll work on your assignments." Trunks groaned and submersed himself entirely under the bubbles. He could still hear Gohan through the water. "Don't worry," he said apologetically. "Tomorrow you'll be rid of me for most of the day."

"Why?" Trunks asked, resurfacing.

"Because I'm going to work to make up for Friday."

"Oh." When Gohan left the bathroom, Trunks got out of the bath and dried quickly. He remembered his promise to try to go easy on Gohan for the rest of the week. If he was nice enough to help the teen with his school work, he supposed he shouldn't be ungrateful. Besides, it would feel good to get caught up on everything. With any luck, by Monday he'd be back to goofing off with Goten again, and he might as well get that week's homework out of the way while he had the chance.

The two spent the rest of the afternoon huddled over text books in the living room, and in a few hours time, the Saiyan student had made up all the work he'd missed as well as the following week's assignments.

The work was surprisingly easy and he couldn't help but think he'd have had more of a challenge if he'd gone to Weston. For the first time, he wondered about the long term ramifications of his split-second decision to attend WCU. But he quickly put it out of his mind.

"Well," Gohan said, interrupting his thoughts, "I'm glad to see you haven't killed _all _of your brain cells yet."

"Nope," Trunks smiled. "Just enough to actually need your help."

"Nice," the other man answered sarcastically. "So, you wanna watch a movie?"

"Okay!" Trunks brightened. Then his face fell. "Wait, when you say movie, do you mean real movie or some kind of observational documentary about the plight of the human condition?"

Gohan vaguely wondered if Trunks could read minds.

"Goodnight, Gohan," Trunks rolled his eyes as he got up from his place on the floor. Laughing softly, he disappeared into his bedroom.


	5. Chapter 5

Mary--Thanks for the compliment :) Hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

Mademoiselle--Thanks for the compliment and for your insightful review :) I'm glad you are enjoying the humor! And yes, the relationship is changing them both. Whether it's making Trunks a better person is yet to be seen, hehe. He has quite a bit of improvement to do...

**Chapter 5**

On Monday morning, Trunks and Goten had college algebra together. It was pretty much the same math class that Trunks had in his freshman year of high school, so it wasn't much of a challenge for him. While most of the kids in the class seemed to be nervously scanning last week's notes, he was scanning the room for Goten.

He had planned to try to talk to him before class, but the youngest Son walked in five minutes after the start time. Trunks had saved a seat for him, but he noticed with annoyance that he had competition. The blond girl who'd introduced herself the other day was sitting in the front of the room and she waved Goten over right away. To his credit, the younger boy did turn around almost immediately after sitting down to scan the faces behind him for his Saiyan friend. When his eyes settled on Trunks, the lavender-haired demi mouthed, "meet me after class?" and Goten nodded.

Trunks attempted to focus on the subject at hand, but it was nothing more than a review to him. So he spent most of the class time watching Tiffany interact with Goten. She was constantly leaning over and whispering to him and Trunks didn't like how close it required her lips getting to his ear. Several eyes turned to look at him when the pencil he was holding none too delicately cracked between his clenched fingers.

"Oops . . . sorry," he mumbled, and someone nearby was nice enough to hand him another.

But he did notice with something akin to pleasure that Tiffany didn't seem to understand any of the problems. She was continuously erasing what she'd written, questioning Goten, and then staring up at the professor with big, confused green eyes. Trunks found himself imagining what it would be like to stab them out with his new pencil. But he settled instead for raising his hand and easily answering all of the questions that left her blinking and dumbstruck. In the end, he found it a satisfying way to pass the time.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, class was over. Trunks noticed gratefully that Tiffany had stayed afterwards to talk to the professor and he raced into the hall, hoping to catch Goten alone.

"Trunks, are you okay?" Goten asked with concern as his friend approached him. "You weren't in class on Friday and Gohan said you were sick." His brow crinkled with worry.

"Oh, yeah," Trunks waved it off. That seemed like ages ago, now. "I'm fine. Listen, Goten, can we talk?" he asked with urgency. Blue eyes implored dark brown.

"Yeah, I think that we need to," Goten answered quietly. "But—."

At that moment, Tiffany skipped out of class and sidled up next to him. "Hey!" Her cheerful voice shattered the heavy air that seemed to have settled around the other two. But she was oblivious to the fact that she'd interrupted.

"Um, hi, talking here." Trunks acknowledged her only long enough to dismiss her. Then, he turned back to Goten, opening his mouth to speak. But before he could, she cut in again. Her social graces were decidedly nonexistent.

"Um, well, okay," she continued, addressing Goten. "But um . . . I was just gonna ask if you wanted to get lunch again today?"

_Again?_ Trunks raised a lavender eyebrow.

"After talking with the professor, I think I finally understand that problem that was bothering us in class. Maybe we could, like, grab some food and talk about it." She smiled and blinked her vacant green eyes. Trunks markedly rolled his blue ones.

But, as was happening all too often lately, Goten seemed to have a different idea. "Yeah, that sounds great, Tiffany. Thanks." Then, turning to Trunks, he asked "Do you want to join us? Come on, you must be hungry."

Trunks could barely contain his revulsion. Did _he _want to join _them_? Since when did he, Goten's best friend, become the third wheel in this situation?

Still, he reasoned, at least it would give him a chance to see Goten for awhile. And he could probably get rid of this girl eventually and then they could talk.

"Lead the way," he said, making a valiant effort to conceal his annoyance. As the two boys followed a short distance behind the blond co-ed, Trunks tugged Goten closer by the shirt sleeve. "What's with her?" he whispered, gesturing at Tiffany.

"Oh, well, she was the only other person in class whose name I knew. So when you weren't here on Friday, I went and sat with her," he whispered in answer. "She's really nice," he assured Trunks after noticing the skeptical look on his face.

"And about as interesting as a pile of rocks." Then Trunks yelped as Goten jabbed him in the side.

Once the three were settled in the student center with several trays of mystery meat that the school tried to pass off as hamburger, Goten and Tiffany wasted no time pulling out their algebra textbooks. Trunks watched in mild amusement as Tiffany tried to help Goten figure out one of the problems that had apparently given them trouble in class.

Finally, after attempting to distract himself by repeatedly glancing around the cafeteria, playing with his hair, and even bravely trying some of the mystery meat, Trunks couldn't hold his tongue any longer.

"So you said you talked to the professor about these problems, right?" He feigned interest.

"Yes." She nodded solemnly.

"And you're sure it was the _math_ professor you talked to?"

She nodded again.

"So, tell me, Tiffany." He spoke as though to a child. "Did they just let you skip directly to college from the third grade? Or, how does that work exactly?"

"Shut up, Trunks," Goten warned. He noticed Tiffany's delayed reaction as her befuddled expression turned to anger and he quickly attempted to turn the awkward situation into an opportunity. "Hey, since you're so smart, maybe you would like to join our study group. We were talking about starting one because it seems like this class is gonna be really hard."

"Oh, sure," he said. "I mean of course I'll help you, Goten." His voice was intense in its sincerity. "You know I will! But just come home and study with me and Gohan. I mean, honestly, this study group idea"—he glanced in Tiffany's direction, then lowered his voice only slightly— "it sounds like the blind leading the blind to me."

Tiffany stood up from the table. "Goten, I'm leaving! I know you said this guy is your best friend, but I'm sorry, he doesn't seem very nice!" She glared at Trunks and then turned to walk away.

"Finally!" Trunks celebrated. "I thought we'd never be rid of her." But when he looked across the table at Goten, the younger boy's eyes were pained. And then he stood up, too.

"Trunks!" He was annoyed. "What are you doing?"

"You a favor," Trunks replied.

Goten growled. "How am I ever supposed to get a girlfriend with you around alienating everybody we meet?"

"Pfffttt!" Trunks covered his mouth to avoid spitting out the soda he'd been drinking. "Girlfriend?!" he gasped. Then, managing with some difficulty to swallow the rest of his drink, he laughed in earnest. "Goten, what in the world are you _on_?"

"Look, you don't know everything about me, Trunks. You may think you do, but you don't."

"Yes, I know, Goten. You have lots of deep and profound feelings. You can fill me in on all of them later tonight. You're coming over, right?"

"Ugh, you're impossible!" Picking up his books, he turned abruptly to walk away. He couldn't deal with Trunks when he was like this. When they had been younger, he had let the older boy push him around too much, but he planned to put an end to that. He did have feelings, and he would find someone who appreciated them.

Though it was clear Trunks wasn't going to let him go that easily. As Goten stalked across the student center, a firm hand on his wrist stopped him in his tracks. He turned with a start to face Trunks.

"Goten." His voice was pleading this time. The widest pair of blue eyes sparkled with emotion, where only a second ago they had been shining with detached amusement. "What's happening to us?"

"Please don't do this," Goten begged. He did need to talk to Trunks. They needed to talk badly, but it would be an emotional ordeal and he wasn't ready to face it right there, right then. He begged his friend not to make him do it.

Not that there was any good time or place for such conversations. Which was why he had put it off for so, so long.

"Do what? What am I doing wrong, Goten? Just tell me."

The younger boy only shook his head and sighed. There were so many things he needed to say, but where to start? "Alright, listen, I'll come over tonight, okay? We can talk then."

"Okay." Trunks smiled. "Go chase after your girlfriend. I'll see you tonight."

***

Several hours later, Goten landed softly on the balcony outside Trunks' room. It was just beginning to get dark out, and he could see his friend's gray silhouette in the softly lit room, framed by the gauzy curtain that hung over the large glass doors. Trunks was lying on his bed, one hand supporting his chin, while the other was writing rapidly in a textbook that lay in front of him.

Goten knew that his best friend had already sensed his ki, or else he would have been tempted to turn and run. But since it was too late for that, he just took a deep breath. And before he had a chance to think over for the millionth time what he was about to do, Trunks was standing there in the glass, holding the curtains aside. The glass seemed to Goten like an outward expression of the intangible barrier that had sprung up between them recently. But, unfortunately, it didn't go away when Trunks slid open the door.

"I have to talk to you," Goten said breathlessly.

"Come in." Trunks waved toward the place where he had just been studying. But when Goten looked behind his friend and saw the bed there, he knew he couldn't go inside. If he ended up on that bed with Trunks, he wasn't going to leave. And he had to leave.

"Unt-uh," he said, shaking his head vigorously in the negative.

"What the fuck, Goten?" Trunks looked surprised. "I don't bite!"

"I just think it'd be better if I stayed out here," he said. He was sure that, if he went in there, they wouldn't get much talking done.

"Fine." Trunks gave in with a flippant wave of his hand. "Whatever." Goten was so weird anymore, he might as well indulge his whims. "So, what are we going to talk about?"

But instead of speaking, Goten just stood there, looking incredibly lost. Trunks found it annoying and adorable all at the same time. He watched as the other's large, liquid brown eyes scanned the balcony distractedly and then came to rest on the ground. For a moment, Goten just stared at his own feet. He opened his mouth to say something, but then bit his bottom lip in hesitation. Trunks watched him nibble on his own lip then open his mouth to speak again. Those plump, luscious, ruby red lips. Pale, iridescent skin. Long lashes fluttering in distress. Already, he had lost interest in whatever Goten had planned to say. He closed the distance between them and joined his body with his friend's, winding his arms tightly around the narrow waist.

This felt right. How could Goten not feel it, too?

The older demi noticed with relief that the other boy didn't protest the contact. Then he realized a part of him had thought that he might. That nagging feeling that he didn't know Goten as well as he used to was bothering him again. He just wanted everything to be the way it was before. When they were so in synch that people thought they shared a psychic connection. But there were still some things he did know about his friend.

He knew just exactly where to find that spot on his neck, right below his earlobe, which drove him completely mad. He knew how to tease him with his lips, so that his words would give way to low moans. Almost without thinking, Trunks kissed him there now, as he pondered how they could have somehow grown apart when he had done everything in his power to keep them close together. Grazing that same tender spot lightly with his teeth, he was aware of the feeling of his friend's body becoming heavy in his arms, relaxing and yielding to him. He loved the way that felt. He traced the underside of Goten's ear with is tongue and heard the familiar, soft sigh that his ministrations always elicited. Then he felt Goten's hand on his chest.

"No, Trunks," he said quietly. "Don't."

Trunks swallowed all of the feelings of fear and desperation that leapt into his heart at those few small words. It was a quiet plea, but full of conviction. Something about his tone took away the last hope Trunks now realized he'd been clinging to: that he could change Goten's mind. It was as if he knew right there in that moment that he had lost Goten, and the whole world seemed to get a few degrees colder.

He lingered a moment longer against his friend's neck to regain some of his composure before pulling away. By the time he stood back, facing his other half on the balcony, his expression was unreadable. But he could tell from Goten's pained features that he hated the cold night air that swirled in and enveloped him where Trunks warm lips and hands had just been. Yet stubbornly, Goten didn't move.

They remained like that for an inordinate amount of time. It felt like a stand off. Trunks was watching with interest the war that was going on behind those enormous brown eyes. The eyes seemed to implore him. They wordlessly asked, _What should I do? _

But that was a question that the older boy couldn't answer for his friend. Of course, he wanted to say, 'Stay, Goten. Stay tonight. Stay forever. Don't you ever leave me. Don't you dare, you jerk!' But it wouldn't mean anything if Goten didn't make the choice for himself. So Trunks was silent.

Then he noticed something else. Something besides just sadness and confusion in those dark orbs.

"Goten," he said, tentatively. "Your eyes, they always give you away." The younger boy blinked up at him. And, yes. There it was again. Unmistakable this time. Guilt.

Trunks took a step forward, peering closer at his friend. With genuine curiosity he asked, "What did you do, Goten?"

The other boy closed his eyes and took a breath. _How the _fuck _does he always do that? _He wondered. He should have known by now that he couldn't hide anything. "I—kissed her—I kissed Tiffany."

If Trunks was surprised, his face didn't show it. Even for a split second. He just crossed his hands over his chest. His eyes were burning holes into Goten again. "It happened today, at the library," the younger boy sputtered. "I don't know why. I just—I just did it."

To him, it seemed like an hour passed before Trunks answered. "That's too bad." He spoke slowly and with deliberation. "I do not share, Goten."

"What 'share'?" Goten shot back. "I don't belong to you!"

"Oh, yes, you do. And I belong to you. That's the way relationships work." Had he not gotten the memo? Had he really failed to grasp this little nuance of the human experience? Trunks wondered. "Do you think you can just go around doing whatever you want, whenever you want, with whomever you want?"

"Relationship?" Goten sounded as if he was caught off guard. "But . . . you're my best friend. We're not in a _relationship_."

"Goten, are you retarded? You think I'm _just _your best friend?" Trunks asked with mocking disbelief. "You don't think maybe I'm a little more than that?" He held up his right hand in a fist and then squeezed his thumb and forefinger together.

Goten crinkled his brow, looking for the right words. "You're my best friend . . . that I . . . occasionally—." He cleared his throat. "—sleep with."

"You are an idiot."

"Okay, look!" Goten's fingers massaged his temples. All of this intensity was giving him a headache. "I know we're more than friends. I know that." He shook away the confusion for a moment and looked deeply into the other's blue eyes. "And Trunks, I love you. I really do. More than anything. But I just—lately there's been this little voice inside my head . . . ."

"That sounds like a personal problem, Goten."

His friend ignored the comment and continued. "It's telling me I need to figure out who I am without you, Trunks."

With those words, he had finally managed what he had been trying to say for days. And what he had known for much longer. "You're all I've ever known. And you're amazing. But . . . I just don't think it's healthy to be so completely dependent on another person." He didn't know which one of them was more dependent on the other. But he was sure they both needed a break. "I feel like—like I don't even know myself without you. I define myself by you. And I don't always like what I see."

Trunks looked rather shaken. He looked like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Goten watched his friend's eyes as they worked through various stages of emotion, from disbelief to something almost like understanding and then finally to anger.

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" he yelled. "If you love someone, you don't leave them!" And then it all came tumbling out. "And thanks a lot for telling me this now! I gave up everything to come here with you." He gestured behind Goten towards the campus of their school. "When, apparently, you don't want me here at all. And don't even think about trying to blame this on me because I've done everything I can think of to make you happy, Goten, and you still aren't. I don't know what the hell you want."

"But, Trunks, I never asked for any of those things," his friend reminded him quietly.

_Goddammit, _he thought. He hated it when Goten actually had a point.

"And," the other boy continued, "I'm not sure of what I want either. That's what I'm trying to figure out. But I don't want to waste your time while I do that."

"Waste my time?" A small sob was torn from Trunks' throat against his will. "Oh yeah," he said, his voice wavering with emotion. "Because there are so many other people out there that I could be with if I wanted to."

"There _are_," Goten assured him.

"I don't care! I don't want any of them. I want you!" His voice was quieter when next he spoke; almost a whisper. He wasn't looking at Goten anymore and the younger boy thought maybe he was talking to himself. "I _chose you_, Goten."

But what he didn't say hung between them as heavily as what he did say. The sentiment was clear enough. Trunks had been so kind as to bestow his coveted affection on Goten and Goten had turned his back on it. The words belied the unmistakable sense of entitlement that Trunks had been entertaining and both boys realized it.

_'I chose you and you should be grateful.' _

"I don't know what to say. I'm sorry, Trunks."

"Ugh!" he growled. "Just go away." When Goten hesitated, Trunks repeated his order. "LEAVE!"

With one more quick glance at his friend, Goten lifted soundlessly off the balcony and his form soon receded into the sky above the city. It was the final, parting blow to Trunks' heart that he didn't even try to stay and comfort him. Or remotely attempt to beg forgiveness. Clearly he was finished with Trunks. It was over and he had already moved on.

The teen prince was outraged. He stormed back into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He was only vaguely aware of the sound of shattering glass as he raced into the hallway. The new object of his fury stood there in the living room, in Trunks' sights like a deer in headlights.

He stalked angrily down the hall towards his roommate. "Your brother is an ASSHOLE!" And with an angry grimace, he pounded both fists on Gohan's chest. But the older man caught him in a tight embrace before he could do much damage. He watched silently as the anger marring Trunks' delicate features melted into sadness. Then his eyes began to shine with moisture and he buried his face in his hands just in time to hide the tears.

"Trunks." Instinctively, Gohan wrapped his arms around the now sobbing boy. He held him very tightly, somehow irrationally hoping to stop the sobs that were shaking his body. He seemed surprisingly fragile in Gohan's arms. Not like the headstrong demi that Gohan knew.

But he understood what Trunks was going through, and it was the sort of thing that had the power to bring a strong man, even a powerful warrior, to his knees. Being rejected by the one he loved.

Gohan had been washing the dishes when he'd absently looked up and, through the kitchen window, saw the two boys on the balcony. He wouldn't have thought much about it except that they were standing so close. Indeed, he noticed Trunks' arms were around Goten's waist. There wasn't even an inch between them, and it had caught him off guard. Before he had a chance to think much on it, Trunks had kissed his brother. It was a very sensual kiss on the neck and Gohan had looked away, both embarrassed and confused.

Then, almost immediately he began to wonder how he hadn't realized it sooner. In about a second's time, a thousand images flashed in his mind of the two growing up together over the years. Of course, it was so obvious! He had been blind not to notice it. They had fallen for each other.

Or at least, Trunks had fallen for Goten. Because when he looked up again, his brother was pushing Trunks away. And Trunks looked completely shocked. He had never seen heartbreak written so clearly on someone's face. He knew then that Trunks must have told his brother how he felt only to learn that Goten didn't feel the same way. And Gohan could imagine how the young man in his arms must feel now.

For he knew from personal experience that there was no greater sense of abandonment than that which came with losing the one who meant everything to you. As if sensing that the shaking boy in his arms needed to hear it, he whispered, "I'm here, Trunks. It's okay. It's okay," he repeated. "I'm still here."


	6. Chapter 6

Mademoiselle--thanks for all your comments at B&R! I enjoyed reading your take on the various chapters. I think we see things very much the same way and your take on their actions was exactly what i had intended to portray. I did respond to your comments there, as well :) Thanks again for reading and sharing your thoughts!

**Chapter 6**

Gohan held tight to the distraught demi-Saiyan for a long time. Trunks' sobbing finally subsided into hiccupping, and eventually into only an occasional sniffle. He wiped his tears on the back of either hand without moving his forehead from Gohan's chest. He wished he could just stay there exactly as he was forever. Even this horrible moment frozen in time was better than the thought of having to extract himself from Gohan's arms and face what had just happened. Face the thought of moving forward in life without Goten.

He already knew that tomorrow getting through class would be damn near impossible. Goten would be there, of course. Probably sitting with his new girlfriend. And Trunks would be alone, relegated to staring at his life long friend and lover from across a room full of strangers. But he didn't even have the strength to worry about that yet. It seemed between now and then there would be a thousand impossible moments.

Everything in his bedroom reminded him of Goten. The younger boy's clothes strewn around the room and mixed with Trunks' own things; his tooth brush on the sink; his hair in the shower drain; the smell of him that permeated every thread of Egyptian cotton on Trunks' bed. The little things that served as comforting reminders of their friendship, he now feared because of the reaction they would evoke in him. He already knew that every time he caught a glimpse of Goten, he would have to relive that heart wrenching feeling that he had experienced for the first time in his life tonight on the balcony. It was that fear that glued him in place, causing him to linger against the other man far longer than he was probably welcome.

And of course there was the more immediate problem of explaining everything to Gohan. "You must think I'm crazy," Trunks whispered hoarsely, when he had calmed down enough to speak.

Gohan petted Trunks' hair with one hand. "No, I don't," he assured him quietly.

Trunks lifted his head and stared up at his roommate. His tanned face was flushed a bright pink and his cheeks were stained with tears. Gohan answered the questions that he could see reflected in his roommate's eyes. "I saw what happened on the balcony, Trunks," he said. "From the kitchen. I was washing dishes . . . ." He trailed off, not sure how Trunks would feel about the fact that he'd witnessed the scene.

But Trunks was relieved. At least the ice was broken on the topic of him and Goten. "I guess you probably have some questions then," he said, and laughed weakly at the thought of Gohan getting the surprise of his life while unsuspectingly doing housework.

"No, not really," Gohan answered. He was as surprised as Trunks at the calmness in his voice. But he really didn't need for Trunks to explain to him what had happened. A split second after his initial shock at the kiss he had witnessed, his brain had quickly put together the pieces of the puzzle. Trunks loved Goten. For some reason, he wasn't really surprised to find that out. Perhaps he had seen the signs there many times over the years and simply hadn't recognized their significance.

Thinking about the two boys now, he could see how it had happened. Gohan knew better than anyone how hard it was to bring an outsider into this life. How difficult it was to have to hide your powers and your responsibilities from someone you wanted to be close to. And here, all along, these two boys had each other. Through thick and thin. Through the strange adventures of being a Saiyan and saving the world, right down to the mundane experience of going to college.

"What am I going to do?" The young man in Gohan's arms was trying hard to choke back a new torrent of sobs. "He's—. He's my—." Trunks struggled to finish the sentence before collapsing onto the couch and giving in to the tears. "He's my whole life, Gohan."

Gohan could feel his own heart break at the admission. Part of the emotion he felt was because Trunks' words brought back anew the pain of his own failed relationship. But most of the dull ache that was spreading through his chest was because the two people involved in this tragic love story were people that he cared about deeply. Seeing them suffer was far worse than suffering himself.

"Trunks," he pled with the boy, kneeling down alongside the couch where his roommate had curled up. "Don't you think you two can still be friends? I know Goten, and he would never desert you, no matter what's happened between you guys. I know he would want to stay friends."

"I can't." Trunks shook his head. "He wants to but I just can't. With the way I feel—." He closed his eyes and two fresh tears streaked down his glistening cheeks. "It's too hard to see him with somebody else."

There was nothing more that Gohan could say. He was smart enough to know when words just wouldn't help.

Trunks let Gohan stroke his hair until he felt emotional exhaustion begin to overtake him. He was quickly learning that the only upside to being utterly miserable was that eventually his body wore itself out under the weight of its burden and he could look forward to the sweet nothingness of sleep. He felt his head begin to dip as his muscles relaxed.

Gohan watched Trunks' eyes flutter closed and then rocked back on his heels and sighed. He didn't know what in the world he could do to help the boys through this. It was a frustrating feeling not to be able to help his friends, as he had done so many times before. But this was a different enemy altogether.

He got up quietly, so as not to disturb Trunks, and made his way down the hall to towards the younger man's bedroom. Trunks had shattered the glass door to the balcony when he slammed it and bits of broken glass littered the floor. Some had scattered as far as his bed. A chilly breeze blew through the room, causing the curtains where the door had once been to billow out over the bed. It was an eerie sight. Gohan made a mental note to call the superintendent of the building first thing tomorrow, but there was no way Trunks could sleep in there tonight.

He shut the bedroom door tightly and returned to the living room. Trunks awoke with a start when he entered the room. "Don't worry, it's just me," Gohan assured him. "Your, uh, your bedroom's kind of a mess," he began. Trunks just blinked sleepy, red-rimmed eyes at him and Gohan figured he probably didn't even realize how hard he'd slammed the door. "Why don't you just go to sleep in mine tonight?"

Trunks nodded and let Gohan help him up from the couch. A few minutes later he was nestled into Gohan's bed, tucked between clean sheets which smelled freshly laundered and, to his great joy, not a think like Goten. He heard his roommate softly close the door and a few moments later, he submitted to drowsy darkness.

***

Gohan sat at his desk, trying to look over some notes for a meeting he had in the morning but there was way too much on his mind to be able to concentrate. Instead he walked over to the phone and called home.

"Hi Mom, is Goten there?" He waited patiently for Chichi to execute her usual tirade about how much she hated him living in the city. How he should move back home, and how he and Videl should try one more time to work things out. He resisted the urge to tell her that he was too old for her to be talking to him this way, and simply reiterated his request to talk to his brother.

"Yeah, I think he's here," she said in an exasperated tone. "Not that I'd know the difference. The house might as well be empty when he's home, for all the conversation I have with him. What is it about teenagers these days, Gohan? They're so sulky and temperamental. You were never like that, were you, dear?"

"I guess not, Mom."

"Go-TEN!" Gohan tore the phone away from his ear as, without warning, his mother shouted out her other son's name.

"I got it," the younger boy said quietly, picking up the receiver.

"GOTEN, YOUR BROTHER IS ON THE PHONE!" Chichi screamed into the receiver, not realizing he had already picked up.

"Jesus Christ," Goten swore under his breath. "I got it, Mom!"

Chichi gasped. "Do you hear the way he talks to me? I don't know where I went so wrong with him, Gohan. I just keep thinking it's because your father wasn't around during his formative years and you know it's a very important time for a young man—."

"Would you give it a rest with that, Mom?" Goten cut in loudly, talking over his mother. "My formative years were just fine because I had Gohan and he was a better father than dad ever—."

"You stop right there, young man," she warned sternly.

"Mom, cut him a break today, okay?" Gohan requested softly. "I really need to talk to him alone. Please."

"Fine," she grudgingly agreed. "But you know no one ever calls to talk to me. I have no idea what's going in my boys' lives. It's very hard for a mother you know—."

They both heard the soft sounds of their father's voice consoling Chichi and then a distinct click, after which there was just silence.

Gohan mentally thanked his dad. Then his thoughts turned back to his brother, the real reason he had called.

"Wow, Gohan," Goten said, his voice sincerely grateful. "Thanks for that."

"No problem, little bro. I know she can be a pain when you're already stressed out. I just wanted to call to see if you're okay," Gohan informed him.

"Um, yeah, I'm fine." He cleared his throat. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Goten, um, I saw what happened earlier," Gohan informed him. "With Trunks . . ." he added, so there wouldn't be any confusion.

Goten was silent a moment. "You did?" he asked stiffly. "Well, what exactly, uh . . ."

"Enough to know that you might need to talk." Gohan wanted to spare his brother as much awkwardness as possible. "I just want you to know that I care about you both a lot, and I'm here if you need me."

"Thanks, Gohan." He sounded relieved but also hesitant. "I don't really wanna talk about it though. But, I think Trunks . . . he might need . . . ."

"Yeah. He's pretty upset."

"I didn't mean to hurt him, Gohan."

"I know, little bro."

"Just, I dunno, don't worry about me, but . . . keep an eye on him for me, would ya?" Goten asked softly. His voice wavered. "I don't think he wants me around anymore."

"Well, try to understand how hard this is for him. He told me that you're his whole life."

Both were silent for a moment. Trunks had never said that to Goten, and this was the first time he was hearing it. That troublesome question of whether or not he had done the right thing tormented him. But he couldn't bring himself to open up to Gohan.

They just didn't talk about things like this. Even when Gohan had announced that he and Videl were separating, Goten only mumbled 'If you ever need to talk . . . ." and Gohan had awkwardly thanked him but never took him up on the offer. Although they remained close as they'd gotten older, both of them had tacitly accepted the fact that they didn't talk about girls, relationships, or sex. It was probably because of the age difference. And by the time Goten was old enough to care about sex, he'd started fooling around with Trunks and both boys had decided that it was better kept a secret.

For whatever reason, it wasn't something he felt comfortable discussing with his brother. So he only said weekly, "I miss him, Gohan." Then his voice broke. "I wish we could find a way to stay friends."

"I'm sure in time you will," his brother reassured him. But as the conversation had become strained, Goten wanted to get off the phone.

"Thanks for calling," he said.

"Anytime," Gohan responded.

After he'd hung up, he felt a little better knowing Goten was okay. But he still didn't have any idea how to help Trunks. He went to the closet and grabbed a spare blanket and pillow from the shelves. But then again, he realized as he laid them out on the couch, Trunks' situation was not so different from his own. Gohan acknowledged he was letting gender issues and his closeness to both boys cloud his judgment. Heartbreak was heartbreak after all. No matter the parties involved. And Gohan knew a thing or two about heartbreak.

He was Trunks' friend. And that was what he had to offer.

***

The next morning, the demi-Siayan prince awoke with a heavy weight on his heart. He found it amazing the way emotions managed to wreak havoc on his physical body. It took all his strength just to sit up and slide his feet onto the floor. He was dreading having to face this first day alone.

He made his way out into the dining room where Gohan had warm crepes and fresh fruit waiting. They ate in relative silence but Trunks realized how glad he was that Gohan now knew what was going on. It was a huge relief not to have to hide everything. He couldn't even imagine how the feeling of loneliness would have been magnified if he had to suffer in seclusion, without another person who knew him to share it with.

After breakfast, Gohan said his goodbyes and left for work, assuring Trunks that if he needed anything, he should call, and Trunks made his way into his own bedroom to dress. He was surprised at the scene of destruction that awaited him there until, in a flash of lucidity, he remembered having slammed the glass door the night before. Right after Goten had—.

He felt his heart drop in his chest. But no. He would not be a victim of his own dismal thoughts. He shook his head as if that would help rid his brain of the awful memory.

Ignoring the scene in his bedroom, he made his way first to the bathroom to wash, and then to his closet. He picked out a pair of grey straight-leg chinos and a white button-down shirt. Finishing the outfit with a black fitted v-neck sweater, he inspected himself in the mirror. He was happy with what he saw. The outfit: a classic. The body: well, flawless. The hair? He smoothed it with his hands then carefully placed his unruly bangs over his eyes. There. Perfect.

Nothing like looking damn sexy to lift one's spirits. And if a certain ex-boyfriend should happen to notice, all the better.

Trunks slipped on a pair of black sneakers and threw a Capsule Corp. messenger bag over his shoulder, then headed with determination towards the front door. He had a lot to do this morning.

***

He was waiting at the door of the registrar's office at 9 a.m. when it opened. When he stepped inside he was greeted by a pleasant female student. "I need to change my classes around," he told her.

"Okay," she said cheerfully. "Just let me get your file."

"Last name is Briefs, first name—."

"Oh, I know who you are," she said, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks.

Trunks looked away uncomfortably. Although he loved being the center of attention in his own little world, it still put him on edge when strangers acted all star-struck around him. There were times when one simply wanted to be anonymous and he was quickly realizing he would never have that luxury. He supposed he had been rather sheltered, growing up at Capsule Corp., surrounded only by his family, the Z-warriors, and Capsule employees. He'd largely avoided interacting with anyone outside of that small circle, and he had gotten a reputation as being quite stuck up as a result. But he supposed that now, without Goten to hide behind, he would have to get used to it.

"Yes, here we are," the girl cut into his thoughts, having located his file folder. "What class did you want to change?"

"All of them."

"Oh," she said, a bit surprised. "Well, here's the list of classes that are still open. I hope you can find five that interest you. There's not much left to choose from. "

Trunks looked over the list and made a face. There really wasn't anything good left. But every class on the page did have one major advantage and, to him, everything else was an afterthought. Trunks circled a few of the least unpleasant choices.

The girl at the desk spoke up timidly. "Humanities 101 is a pretty good class. I mean, I'm in it," she blushed again, "and I like it so far."

Her face was so red by now, Trunks wondered how she had any blood left in her extremities. "Okay, thanks," he said and circled Humanities 101. "That should do it."

"I'll just enter these changes into the database and you can start your new classes today."

He was happy that the process had been so easy. He had been worried that he'd be forced to remain in class with Goten, and he didn't think he could handle even one. A few seconds later, the girl handed him his new schedule, still warm from the printer. His first class started at 10 a.m.

Heading out the door, he strolled along the city streets that made up the WCU campus and became aware that it all looked somehow different today. Indeed, the campus felt more alien even than it had on the first day of the semester. He realized he was having a hard time orienting himself without his best friend there in that place by his side that was reserved especially for him. Trunks had heard that when a Saiyan lost his tail, it took him awhile to learn how to get around again without it. He felt Goten's absence like the loss of just such an appendage and was dizzy with the new perception.

"Trunks!" He heard someone call his name and, for a split second, hoped against hope to turn around and find his best friend there, calling out to him and smiling. Or any friendly face, for that matter. Even the familiarity in the way the person had called to him had been comforting, making him feel, for just one moment, less alone.

The young prince glanced sidelong in the direction of the voice, but instead of finding a familiar face, a stranger whom he'd certainly never met before snapped a picture of him. The flash confused his senses for a second before he shot the kid a pissed off look and turned back around. "Come on, man! It's for the school paper," the annoying reporter yelled after him. "It'll be out tomorrow! Can you answer just a few questions?"

He could tell that the boy was following him because his voice wasn't getting any fainter even though Trunks was moving at a good clip. "Everyone wants to know, Trunks, why did you come to WCU instead of going to Weston, where Bulma Briefs is on the board of trustees?"

He wanted to yell at the kid to stop talking to him like he knew him. But he held his tongue.

"Will you be pledging any fraternities this semester? Are you seeing anyone? What sorority do you think has the prettiest girls?"

Trunks could never understand why people would want to hear so much about someone they didn't even know. Even back when he was a kid and had won the World Martial Arts Tournament junior division, he'd had little use for reporters. And he had even less now. "No comment," he said, picking up his pace to a speed he knew the other boy couldn't match.

***

As the clock clicked towards the end of his first class, Trunks realized that for the last ten minutes he'd been daydreaming. The class wasn't exactly interesting. It was a simple composition course. Several of his classmates had offered to lend him their notebooks so he could catch up on the lectures he had missed during the first week, but it wouldn't be necessary. It seemed that, as he had a basic grasp of language and grammar, he was already far ahead of the curve. He didn't voice the observation, although it took a lot of restraint, and only graciously turned down the various invitations.

He looked down at his own notebook where he had been doodling. A picture of two small boys. He let his cheek rest on his palm while staring at the picture and ran one finger across the hair of the little Goten stick figure. He didn't understand where along the line their expectations had diverged so drastically. When was it, between budokais, and fighting the bad guys, and sleepovers at Capsule Corp., that they had gotten such different ideas in their heads about what they were doing?

How could Goten believe they were just a couple of friends fooling around? How could he think they were just passing time with each other until they met their "real" mates? When did Goten start thinking about having a girlfriend? _And why didn't I?_ Trunks wondered.

It occurred to him that they had never really talked about what they were, but on the other hand, it didn't seem like anything needed to be said. They had always been together, and they would always be together. It was the simplest love story of all.

Or maybe Trunks was the idiot. Maybe he had been hopelessly naïve in assuming that childhood friendship plus teenage hormones could really equal more than the sum of its parts. That it could really translate into an adult relationship at the expense of all their other experiences. Was it just a friendship with benefits, after all? Or could what they had really be love?

Either way, he was beginning to realize why it was so dangerous to do what Goten had warned against: making one person your everything. Or, as Goten had so eloquently put it, being each others' "first kiss, first fuck, and only friend." Because when one was gone, the other was left with nothing.

As class was dismissed, he scribbled out the drawing and closed his notebook. He was getting tired of all these morose thoughts. He needed to take his mind off it for awhile. And there was only one thing that could make him feel better now.

***

Twenty minutes later, Trunks stood in front of a three-way mirror admiring his pecs under a long sleeved black t-shirt that was probably one size too small and ten times more expensive than it should have been. "Hmm…" he pondered.

It looked good. But if he was going to forget about Goten he would need more stuff. "Bring me that tech vest," he requested of the dressing room attendant and pointed to a bright red garment hanging on a nearby rack. He put it on and zipped it part way up then flipped the collar.

Better.

"Needs some accessories," he muttered and no sooner were the words out of his mouth than two more attendants appeared with flashy sunglasses, fashionable loafers, belts, watches, and leather carryalls.

Trunks sat down in a nearby chair and fastened the watch he'd chosen to his wrist while one of the attendants slipped on the shoes he had picked out. "I love it," he said, rising once again to check the mirror. "I think I'll wear this one out. But, I'll take the rest, too." The dressing attendants happily carried all of his things to the queue. It took all three of them to manage his pile, but they didn't complain. They worked on commission, after all.

Trunks felt the nervous tension that had been building in him all morning slowly leaving his body as his card was swiped and his account debited for the new clothes. Something about spending exorbitant amounts of money caused a natural high that just couldn't be beat.

Retail therapy. Maybe more expensive than regular therapy, but it worked a hell of a lot faster.

He left the store, carrying two armfuls of bags. With every new one that he collected, he felt just a little bit of that resonating sadness replaced by temporary exhilaration. Making his way out onto the streets of West City's garment district, he reveled in the sight that greeted him. From where he was on the corner, designer names graced store fronts stretching out in four directions.

He let the distinct smell of the brand new clothes that he was wearing make him almost giddy as he made his way towards the next boutique. Just before he reached his favorite Italian suit designer he was stopped in his tracks by another person calling his name. But this time, he definitely knew the speaker.

"Trunks!" Gohan said sternly, seeming to appear from out of nowhere.

"Hey, Gohan!" Trunks smiled back, ignoring the heated tone of his roommate's voice and greeting him warmly. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he said, exasperated. "You're supposed to be in class."

"Oh, is that all?" Trunks was relieved. "I changed my classes around. I had one this morning and don't have any more until later this afternoon. See?" From his pocket, he produced the paper the registrar had given him and flashed a victory sign at Gohan.

"Oh . . . okay," Gohan sighed. "Sorry, then. I just felt your energy somewhere other than campus and came to investigate."

"You look stressed, Gohan," Trunks observed. "You know what you need?"

"An assistant?" Gohan suggested. "A vacation? A massage!"

"No." Trunks rolled his eyes. "A new wardrobe! Just look at me. This morning I was a mess and now—."

"You're a mess in brand new clothes," Gohan finished for him, shaking his head knowingly.

"On the contrary," he argued. "I'm on the road to recovery." He stuck his nose in the air as if he had some authority on the issue. "Gohan, you should come with!" he suggested, starting to get excited. Gohan had his own wounds to suture. And Trunks had been wanting to get him into an updated wardrobe since they had moved in together. Plus, if there was anything more fun than shopping for one's self, it was dressing up others. Especially those with so much potential. "You have a great body," he eyed his roommate appreciatively. "Let me show you how to use it."

"Uh, as tempting as that sounds," Gohan said sarcastically, "I'll have to take a rain check. I have work, remember? I'm damn busy, too. I only left to find you." He looked at the younger man warily.

Trunks mentally took note of his roommate's increasing stress level and decided that he needed a break. "I'll make some calls," he promised, winking. Then, taking out his sleek silver cell phone, he dialed his mother's direct line. Bulma answered on the third ring, sounding a bit out of breath.

"Mom!" Trunks said sweetly into the phone. "Listen, I know you're busy, but I have good news. I've decided to transfer to Weston at the end of this semester. I want to follow in my mother's esteemed footsteps." Gohan could hear her squeal of excitement from several feet away where he was standing on the pavement. "Oh, but before you get too excited, mother, I have to make sure I get all As this semester, or else maybe I'll blow my chances. I know you're on the board of trustees and all but, well," he said solemnly, taking a deep breath to better sell the story, "I want to do this the right way."

Trunks took a moment to listen to his mother praise him for being so honorable. Then he continued. "So, listen, what I wanted to know was if you could possibly spare Gohan for a few hours this afternoon. I have a big test coming up in my next class and I'm sure I'll ace it if he can help me study."

A few seconds later he hung up with a satisfied smile. "She said I can have you for as long as I want," he said victoriously, expecting Gohan to start jumping up and down with excitement.

But the older man just stared at him in shock. "Trunks, did you ever think that maybe I don't have time for this? Your mother may think she can spare me, but I've got massive amounts of paperwo—."

"Come on, Gohan," the younger boy interrupted. "Just a half an hour! You'd have to take a lunch break anyway, wouldn't you? Just stay for a little while, and then I'll treat you to lunch and send you straight back to your precious paperwork." He smiled endearingly before continuing. "Actually, this store has amazing suits, so think of the whole thing as a business outing. Please?" he added, blinking.

Gohan only reached under his glasses to rub his eyes and sighed.

"Yes!" Trunks quietly celebrated. "Come on." With that he dragged the reluctant man into the store.

"Ah Mr. Briefs!" They were greeted with affection by the store's manager.

"Luca," Trunks greeted the older man familiarly, "it's been far too long."

"It certainly has! We've gotten at least two shipments since you've been here last. But don't worry, I kept aside the best of each for you."

"You're too good to me," Trunks exclaimed. "Show me everything you have!"

The gentleman shuffled off in front of them. "Right this way." When they reached the back, he motioned for Trunks and Gohan to sit down and offered them two glasses of champagne. Normally Gohan would not have taken a drink during work hours, but Trunks was fraying his nerves. He downed his glass quickly.

Then Luca snapped his fingers a number of times and various employees showed up with hangers displaying some of the finest Italian suits Gohan had ever seen. His eyes widened when he caught a glimpse of the price tag attached to the one nearest him. It was a good thing Trunks was rich, or Gohan was sure he'd have no money left to buy him lunch.

"These few here," Luca gestured to three immaculate garments held by his underlings. "I've had the liberty of tailoring them to your measurements," he finished proudly. "I just knew they'd suit you."

"I'm sure I'll love them. But tell me," Trunks asked, "do you have something in my friend's size?" He gestured towards Gohan. "I think something in green would really bring out his eyes," Trunks suggested and the salespeople readily agreed. In a minute they were back with an impressive mahogany brown wool number paired with a dark green shirt and matching tie.

A young woman held the fabric up to Gohan's neck. "Oh yes," she breathed in a heavy accent. "This makes the gentleman's eyes sparkle. And it perfectly contrasts your flawless pale skin, sir," she flattered him.

"Gohan, you would look amazing in that. You have to try it on," Trunks encouraged.

Either the compliments or the champagne was going to his head because Gohan grudgingly reached out to grasp the hanger. He stood up and joined Trunks on the raised platform in front of the wall of full length mirrors that made up the dressing room. "I don't know why I let you talk me into these things," he ruminated.

"You'll know why when you see yourself dressed in that," that younger boy answered.

"And for you, Mr. Briefs," Luca said with a gleam in his eye. "I've been saving something very special." He produced a jet black pair of pants, blazer and vest and paired it with a black shirt and tie. "Monochromatic patterns are all the rage this season," he assured Trunks. "And if I may say, sir, you look stunning in black."

Trunks' mouth was already watering. He did look damn fine in black, and this suit was a piece of artwork. He quickly stripped out of the clothes he was wearing, with the help of several attendants, and discarded them to the side as he reached out for the new object of his longing. The attendants helped him to put it on, tucking in his shirt for him, as he fiddled with the tie.

Gohan startled as expert hands began unbuttoning his own shirt and sliding it over his shoulders. "Oh, I can do it—," he attempted to interrupt them as a second attendant started working on his belt. But they already had him half undressed. Resigned, Gohan let them strip him down to socks and underwear and then re-clothe him in the outfit they had chosen.

Practiced fingers tucked his shirt in, buckled his belt, and secured the buttons on the mahogany colored vest. "Wait," Trunks interrupted as they tried to hoist the jacket onto his shoulders. "Just hang on to the jacket for now." Trunks approached him and carefully lifted the awkward black frames away from Gohan's eyes. Just as he suspected, behind those unassuming glasses, Gohan's black eyes practically smoldered. It was a sin to keep them so disguised. Trunks ruffled the older man's bangs until a few black strands fell down over his forehead. The effect was a sexy casual look that he thought complimented Gohan perfectly.

"Gorgeous," he said with approval. All of the salespeople murmured and nodded their heads in agreement. "You look like you walked off the pages of GQ, Gohan." Trunks smiled and gestured towards the mirror.

Gohan caught his reflection in the multiple panes of glass that surrounded him. He almost couldn't believe it was him in the mirror. He looked . . . well . . . .

"Downright edible," Trunks finished, drinking in the reflection with admiring eyes.

"The two of you make a dashing pair," Luca concluded presumptuously. Gohan flustered for a moment and Trunks watched as a faint and endearing shade of pink colored the older demi's cheeks.

"Do you know who would fucking cream her pants if she saw you right now?" Trunks asked, making Gohan even more uncomfortable. "Videl," he finished matter-of-factly.

"Really, you think?" Gohan's eyes snapped up from the floor where they had come to rest. The younger man noticed that apparently, even the immaculate Gohan could succumb to vanity where his ex was concerned. Maybe the two of them weren't so different after all. "Ah, doesn't matter . . ." he said, regaining his senses. "I can't afford any of this."

"What kind of crap is my mom paying you?" Trunks inquired. "It's a sin to having you walking around in those khakis." He made a face. But he was already distracted from the topic at hand as he glanced at his own reflection clad in flawless black. The image was striking. Even Gohan had to admit, Trunks was the very definition of stunning. If Gohan looked like a model straight out of the pages of GQ, then Trunks looked like some kind of angel, fallen from the heavens and directly into Italian silk.

Still, Gohan managed to tear his eyes away, while Trunks remained transfixed by the sight. Gohan shook his head. "Amazing you had time to fall for Goten when you seem so inexcusably infatuated with yourself." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, though, he regretted having uttered Goten's name. Especially while being so critical of Trunks.

But the younger boy didn't respond, except to muse quietly, "What's amazing is how he managed not to fall head over heels for me."

Gohan wanted to protest at the unapologetic conceit of the statement. But he only snorted and turned to leave the dressing room. The kid had a damned point.

***

"So were you serious about transferring to Weston?" Gohan inquired as the two ate their lunch at a downtown café a short time later.

"Yes," Trunks affirmed. "But I was lying about having a test this afternoon." He looked up at Gohan expecting an angry reaction. "I just thought it'd be fun to spend some time together. You did have fun, didn't you?" Trunks' eyes widened expectantly.

Gohan didn't have the heart to dash the hope that he heard in the other's voice. But as he answered affirmatively, he realized with some surprise that he wasn't lying. He did indeed have a good time shopping with Trunks. "It was a lot of fun, actually," he answered slowly after nodding.

"Anyway," the younger boy continued, "I only came to WCU because of . . . him" He stared down at his plate for a moment, then he shrugged and looked up again. He seemed resolute. "No point in staying now."

"I admire your strength, Trunks," Gohan said earnestly. "It takes a very brave person to keep moving forward after things like this happen."

Trunks smiled across the table at his roommate. "Likewise." Then he added, only half-joking, "Or just a couple of people who are really good at faking it."

"Nah." Gohan inattentively poked an olive around on his plate. "You and me, kid," he insisted, "we're gonna be just fine." But it didn't quite sound like he believed it himself.

Trunks pushed his empty plate out of the way and rested his arms on the table, leaning across it a bit to peer at his lunch date. "So, enough about me. Tell me, what happened between you and Videl?"

Gohan pretended he didn't hear the question. "Check, please!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Trunks awoke to the sound of that voice that was becoming so familiar to him these days. It was low and close to his ear. "My bed comfortable, Sleeping Beauty?"

He burrowed deeper into the feather pillows that surrounded him. "Mmmhmm," he breathed drowsily.

Gohan plopped down on the edge of the mattress to slide on his socks. "Yeah, I vaguely remember that." The workers still had not been to the apartment to fix the broken door in Trunks' room and he had made himself quite comfortable in Gohan's.

The younger boy rolled automatically towards the indentation in the mattress that Gohan made as he sat down. Gohan was warm and he smelled good. Trunks squirmed against him, trying to get comfortable for the ten more minutes of sleep he planned on getting.

"Ow!" Gohan complained, as Trunks elbowed his roommate in the middle of the back while adjusting the covers. He drew his legs up so that his body from knees to shoulders formed a big C-shape around Gohan's seated form.

"Wake me up in ten . . . ." His voice was muffled as he buried his face between Gohan's leg and the mattress.

"I feel like I have a puppy," Gohan grumbled to himself.

He knew that Trunks and Goten had always been super comfortable with one another, sleeping in the same bed and sprawled all over each other, as if they were still kids. So he figured Trunks was probably used to having someone to curl up to upon waking, but Gohan preferred the boundaries of personal space.

Tilting his head to the side, he shook his fingers through his dripping wet hair so that the drops splashed on the dozing prince's head and shoulders. "I'll be gone in ten," he informed Trunks, standing up and drying his hair the rest of the way with a towel that was draped around his bare shoulders.

Resigned, the teen sat up and raised his arms above his head, stretching copiously. Then he rested his hands behind him on the bed, propping himself up and attempting to blink away the morning grogginess. He watched Gohan slide on his shirt and button it.

"You know you don't have to sleep on the couch. The bed's plenty big enough for us both." Trunks yawned. "You're not sleeping well, anyway. You look tired."

"Gee, thanks." Gohan made a face. "That's usually a nice way of telling someone they look like crap."

Trunks snickered as he got out of bed and slid his feet into Gohan's slippers, but he didn't offer any kind words to refute his roommate's observation. Grabbing his roommate's bathrobe from a hook on the wall, he wrapped it around himself then padded towards the attached bathroom. "It's settled then, you'll come back to bed tonight," his voice echoed from inside.

"Uh, we'll see," Gohan answered, as he knotted his tie around his neck. "I'm fine where I am, really. Got used to sleeping on the couch a long time ago."

"That's sad." Trunks appeared at the door again, speaking the words around a toothbrush. Gohan seriously hoped he had brought his own toothbrush over from his bedroom. Still, it seemed like Trunks was making himself right at home. "I don't want to be like Videl, kicking you out of your own bed." He disappeared to go spit in the sink.

"Well, let's see what happens," Gohan said, always the optimist. "Hopefully the door in your room will be fixed today." He grabbed his brown leather briefcase from where it rested against the wall. "Anyway, I'm off. See you tonight."

Gohan was already on the phone with the superintendent of the building by the time he got to the elevator. "You're killing me here, Manny!" he said, as the doors closed. "You really have no idea when they'll be out to fix it? You know . . . it's a real hazard!" he insisted. "Anyone could just walk into our apartment from off the street!"

He listened to the super speak for a moment. "Well, yes, I do realize not many people can scale a fourteen-story building but . . . it's the principle!" Since the gruff old man was unmoved by the legitimate safety concerns, Gohan doubted very much that he would care about the real hazard: the distinct possibility that the displaced Saiyan prince would never go back to his own room. Shopping together was one thing, but sleeping together? This was all getting out of hand!

Gohan clapped a palm to his forehead. "No, I don't want you to come up and tape plastic wrap around the door frame!" He grimly thought about what Trunks' reaction to that would be. "Please just tell them to come out as soon as they can, okay?"

With that, he hung up and sighed. He was already getting a headache and hadn't even reached the front door of his building yet.

***

Goten walked onto the quad later that morning to find Tiffany and Kim had beaten him there. It was a gorgeous fall day, and they were taking a break between classes to enjoy the warm weather. The two girls had spread a thin blanket over the grass and were laying on their stomachs chatting.

"Honestly, Tiff, don't you think it's a little bit strange?" Kim inquired of her friend.

"No," she answered, turning up her nose in indignation. "I think you're just jealous because I have a boyfriend and you don't."

Kim struggled to come up with a retort but she gave up as Goten neared. "Hey guys," he greeted them with curiosity. "What's going on?"

Tiffany shoved her hand out at him, grasping a copy of the school's newspaper. Goten was surprised to see Trunks on the cover. The color picture showed him walking on campus, a slight smile gracing his features. The caption read, "WCU's Most Eligible Bachelor."

Goten narrowed his eyes and started reading the text, but Tiffany quickly summed it up for him. "The article's just speculating about why he decided to come here for college." She was looking at Goten with a strange expression.

"What's the big deal?" Goten asked, blinking.

Kim snorted. "Well in case you hadn't noticed, we don't get many valedictorians passing up the ivy leagues for this place."

"You're his best friend. What do you think, Goten?"

He shrugged. "We just wanted to go to school together."

Kim shot a pointed look at her friend, pursing her lips as if to say, 'I told you so.'

The blond girl rolled her eyes. "Don't mind her, Goten. She's just cranky because she's in serious need of a good lay." Kim's mouth dropped open at the comment. "Hey," the blond suggested cheerily, "maybe we could all double date sometime! You, me, Kim and Trunks!" She clapped her hands together in delight.

"Uh, yeah, sure," Goten stammered, "maybe." He tried to sound enthusiastic, but as he took his place on the blanket next to the two girls he couldn't help but think what a complete disaster that would be.

"Oh my god, that'd be so great, wouldn't it?" Tiffany gushed to Goten. "Me and my best friend dating you and your best friend!"

"Heh…" Goten laughed weakly. "My thoughts exactly . . ." Luckily, a friend of Kim's appeared just then and stole the girls' attention away momentarily.

There was a time when Goten would have relished the idea of him and Trunks out on the town together with a couple of cute girls. But the idealistic image had not played out well the few times they had tried it. Goten always felt paranoid that his date was more into Trunks than him, and Trunks always managed to make everyone feel like they were wasting his time. The night generally ended with Trunks putting the girls in a cab and whispering to the younger boy to forget about them. Then doing his best back at Capsule Corp. to make sure Goten did just that.

At least it wasn't a total loss, Goten thought, smiling slightly. But, that was then and this was now.

He glanced down at the newspaper again and felt that familiar feeling of jealousy burning in his stomach. Most eligible bachelor? Goten should be so lucky as to be featured in the school paper as the campus's most worthy catch. And yet he could see as he scanned the article that the other demi had avoided the reporter to the best of his ability. It was the usual story with Trunks. He got all the attention and he didn't even want it.

Goten slid the article back towards Tiffany and studied the pattern on the blanket for awhile. He was surprised when a few seconds later she passed it back to him. This time, there was a note written in the corner. "Want to visit me at my dorm tonight?" it said. Kim was still distracted with her own conversation and Tiffany winked secretively.

Goten flipped the paper over so they were writing on the back cover instead. For some reason he didn't want to look at Trunks when he wrote his answer.

***

The lavender-haired student sauntered across campus in good spirits. He had just gotten out of his morning class, Humanities 101, and the girl from the registrar's office had proved to be a valuable classmate. She had brought two cups of coffee to class, offering one to Trunks, and her thoughtfulness had certainly lifted his spirits. The caffeine had probably helped, too.

By now, the sun was high over head, warming the city and making for a pleasant fall day. Trunks thought about taking off his tech vest as he stopped to enjoy the sun in a less crowded part of the quad. But then he caught a scene out of the corner of his eye that made him suddenly very cold. It was Goten, sitting in a grassy part of the landscape, surrounded on either side by his two new friends. He was laughing and talking and seemed to be enjoying himself way too much.

Trunks couldn't help but lament the fact that he was alone, leaning in solitude against a light post, trying his hardest to enjoy this beautiful fall day with no one to share it with, while Goten was living it up with his groupies. Just a few days ago, things would have been so different. They would have been sitting together on that blanket; Trunks with his head in Goten's lap and Goten playing with his hair. Sipping lemonade spiked with cherry vodka and getting intoxicated on each other while they decided on their evening plans.

But no more.

Trunks stared at the scene like a train wreck: he knew it would upset him, yet he couldn't look away. And then as he watched, he noticed that Goten was still wearing the shoes he had borrowed the last time they went out together.

Trunks gritted his teeth, suppressing the urge to growl.

Every damned morning he dreaded going into his room and inadvertently catching sight of some trinket or another that Goten had bought him for a birthday. Or picking out a seemingly innocuous t-shirt only to remember a time when Goten had impatiently helped him out of it in the dark. The memories tormented him.

Yet there the other boy was, wearing his fucking shoes.

Had he none of those nostalgic feelings that Trunks was entertaining daily? Had he no heart at all? And most importantly, did he really think he could get rid of Trunks but keep his shoes? The Saiyan prince was irate. That Goten had some nerve!

The younger demi's head snapped up when he felt the energy that was emanating from fifty feet behind him. There was only one person it could be coming from and he clearly was not happy. Goten glanced back from the blanket where he was sitting and what he saw confirmed his fears. Trunks was glaring daggers at him from across the quad.

"Hey, um, I'll catch up with you guys a little later, okay?" Goten quickly lifted himself off the blanket. Trunks looked ready to march across the quad and deck him at any second and he didn't want a scene. Plus Goten knew the other boy well enough to know he wouldn't just calm down on his own. He decided to go see what was wrong. "Oh and uh, I'll talk to Trunks for you, Kim," he laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head as Kim rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"As if."

Goten approached the irritated demi not knowing exactly what to expect. It was the first time they'd spoken since that night on the balcony and it didn't look like it would be a very happy meeting. "Trunks," he said tentatively as he stopped in front of the prince.

"Those are mine," Trunks spat from between clenched teeth, pointing toward Goten's feet.

Surprised, Goten glanced down at what he was wearing before looking back at Trunks. "Wha--?"

"The fucking shoes are mine." He spoke slowly, every word laced with venom. "Give them to me."

The younger boy almost laughed. "Come on . . . ." This was ridiculous.

Trunks' expression changed to one of innocence for a moment. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm just trying to help, Goten. I mean, really, how do you expect to define yourself while wearing someone else's clothes?"

Goten had no idea what to say. Identity crisis aside, he didn't have any other clothes to wear. "No way!" he exclaimed, crossing one foot over the other protectively.

Trunks pressed a finger to his mouth as he looked Goten up and down. "Come to think of it, those pants look familiar, too."

Fuck, the younger boy thought. Trunks wasn't kidding. He slipped out of the shoes quickly, not wanting to tempt the other demi into taking the rest of his clothes. He wasn't sure that Trunks wouldn't strip him to his underwear right there on the quad. Alarmed, he wondered if he was wearing Trunks' underwear as well.

The teen prince reached down and snatched up the shoes, shoving them in his messenger bag. "What am I supposed to wear for the rest of the day?" Goten asked, panicking.

"Dunno," Trunks shrugged. "Guess you should have thought of that before you chucked me."

"I can't believe you're acting like this."

His judgmental tone threatened to put Trunks over the edge. "Who the fuck are you to tell me how to act?" He glared at Goten.

The coldness of the words cut the younger boy like a knife. He wondered if Trunks truly hated him. He braced himself for a torrent of hurtful remarks, but Trunks only grimaced and looked away angrily. He wanted to say more, but he wanted even worse to be out of this situation. He turned abruptly, leaving a barefoot Goten to stare at him as he left.

***

Gohan made his way down the city streets as he strolled towards the college. Bulma had sent him to pick up some laboratory equipment that Capsule had loaned to the university. Despite that it wasn't in his job description, she always sent him on these types of errands because he was the only employee who could actually carry the heavy equipment and it spared her the expense of having to hire a moving crew.

As Gohan turned the corner, he ran smack into Goten. His little brother seemed to be in an awful hurry. He looked up, dazed, but then recognized Gohan's smiling face. "Hey, Goten!" he said cheerfully. But his younger brother only glared daggers up at him before slapping his palms to Gohan's chest, pushing him backwards. "Your roommate is an ASSHOLE," he swore.

Gohan rubbed his torso. "You guys have GOT to stop doing that!" He wasn't sure how much more of their fighting his ribcage could take. After he had straightened his shirt he regarded his brother. "I know I'm going to regret asking this, but what happened?"

"Fucking Trunks," he answered. "He took my shoes." Goten lifted his pant legs to expose his stocking feet.

"Why in the world did he do that?"

"Well, technically, they were his," Goten admitted. "But now I have nothing to wear. I can't go barefoot to class!" He looked up at Gohan with beseeching eyes. Of course, he felt compelled to help.

"Don't worry, Goten," he calmed the younger boy. "Just go to our apartment and take a pair of mine. Any pair you want."

"Really?" Goten's voice was quieter and his face was hopeful. "You're the best, Gohan!" But then panic crossed his features again. "But what if Trunks comes home while I'm there?"

"Hmm," the older sibling considered it for a moment. "I'll keep a read on his ki and if I sense him leaving campus, I'll stop him. Somehow . . . ." He could form a plan later. For now he couldn't bear the look of worry on his little brother's face. "Take as long as you need, Goten. Don't worry about it. And I'll have a talk with Trunks later, too."

"Thanks!" Goten said sincerely, his face brightening once again.

"Now go on, kid." Gohan patted his brother's shoulder before continuing on to the physical sciences building.

He had almost finished collecting the equipment he had been sent to gather when he did indeed feel Trunks leaving campus and no doubt heading for home. "Shit," he swore under his breath. Then he turned to the lab tech who was helping him. "Just throw the last few in and hurry," he instructed the confused youth.

Gohan ran down the front stairs of the building carrying a stack of boxes that completely obstructed his vision. Somehow he made his way across several streets and intercepted Trunks as he turned the corner just a block from their building. "Trunks!" he called breathlessly.

"Why, Gohan," the younger man said, amused, "you just can't stay away from me, can you?" His self-satisfied smirk made Gohan want to argue, but he could feel Goten on his way down in the elevator. Any minute he would be walking out of the front door of their building and it seemed a good idea to avoid another confrontation.

"Uh, no, I can't manage to live without you," Gohan agreed with minimal sarcasm. "Listen," he said, thinking quickly, "can you help me with these boxes? I'm headed back to Capsule and I can't see a thing."

"Excuses, excuses," Trunks chided. But he did take two of the boxes from his overburdened roommate. "But, sure, I'll help. It would be nice to surprise my mother, anyway," he stated.

Gohan breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Trunks." He felt Goten approaching the door of the building which was only a few feet away from them by this point. "Um, we better hurry!" he encouraged the teen. "I'm running late as it is and you know how Bulma can get!"

Nodding with a knowing look at Gohan, Trunks picked up his pace as they headed away from the apartment. Supporting his remaining two boxes with one hand, Gohan wiped his brow. He hoped the boys would work out their differences soon. He felt he would be torn in half if they kept pulling him in opposite directions.

When they had gotten a safe distance from their building, Gohan turned to look at the young demi walking beside him. He cleared his throat. "So, uh, I ran into Goten on my way across campus and he wasn't wearing any shoes . . . ."

He waited, giving Trunks a chance to offer an explanation but his blue eyes only darkened with anger. "Yeah?" he challenged Gohan.

"Well, he said you took them."

"They were mine."

"Spoken like a true spoiled brat," Gohan noted. "I know you're hurting, Trunks, but it doesn't give you the right to treat other people badly. You take things too personally, anyway. He was only wearing your shoes because he doesn't have any of his own."

Trunks snorted. "Please. You don't need to feel bad for your little brother. He's perfectly capable of taking care of himself. I'm sure he'll be in someone else's clothes in no time." Trunks' tone was bitter. "He doesn't need you to stick up for him. We're not kids anymore."

"You know, it's funny, you keep saying that . . . ." Gohan trailed off thoughtfully.

"But?" Trunks asked impatiently after another moment of silence.

"Well, I guess I'll believe it when I see it. Seems to me you still act like children."

"You don't know anything about anything, Gohan!" They made the rest of the trip to Capsule Corp. in silence. When they walked into the main lab to drop off the boxes, Bulma greeted her son enthusiastically.

"Trunks!" she shouted, throwing her arms around him. "I haven't seen you since you moved out! My little boy all grown up." She stood back to look at him.

"Mother," he said sheepishly, "it's only been a few weeks."

Gohan left the two to have their reunion and, loading all four boxes back into his arms, made his way to the storage closet.

"Well you look great," she said sweetly. "New outfit?" Trunks nodded. He knew there was a reason he liked visiting with his mom. Well there were many reasons, but mothers as a group were always ready with gratuitous compliments for their children. It was especially nice when one was feeling down.

She poked him in the ribs a few times. "I thought you would be skin and bones by now," she teased. "But it seems you really do know how to feed yourself. I'm so proud of you, Trunks."

"Well, it's mostly Gohan," he felt compelled to admit.

She shrugged happily and went back to her work, content that her son was doing okay. But Trunks was still troubled. "Mom," he asked hesitantly, as he studied his shoe, "do you think I'm immature?"

"Oh, come on, honey. Don't be so hard on yourself. You'll learn how to cook eventually." She hadn't exactly grasped his point, but he said nothing and let her continue. "Anyway, that's why I wanted you to have Gohan there with you. See? Sometimes I do actually know what's best for my son."

He indicated his agreement, leaning in to plant a kiss on his mother's cheek. But he couldn't help thinking that he was taking an awful lot from Gohan and offering next to nothing in return. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to take on a bit more responsibility. Especially since his classes at school were so easy. Then he had an idea.

"Hey, mom!" His voice was already more animated. "I recently changed my schedule around a bit and I have Fridays off. Do you think I could pick up a day here at Capsule? Just, you know, to keep me out of trouble?" He flashed all his teeth in a smile.

"Well of course!" Bulma answered. "Your office is still set up, and there's always extra work to do around here."

Trunks crossed his arms over his chest contentedly. It was a perfect solution. He could keep his mind off the mess that was his personal life at the moment, plus he could prove to Gohan that he was mature and responsible.

Bulma cut into his thoughts. Or, perhaps picked up on them. "So how's Goten?" she asked. "Is he upset that you're planning to transfer to Weston?"

Trunks looked at the floor again. "Doubt it," he said, refusing to meet her eye. "He's kind of hanging out with these new people now."

Bulma furrowed her brows and studied her son. It didn't take a mother's intuition to hear the sound of hurt so clearly reflected in his voice. She had been angry when he'd turned his life upside down for the boy. But she knew she would have done the same thing. She knew how much Goten meant to him. With age came wisdom, however, and she decided to impart a little of that on the teen.

Making her tone a light as possible, she teased him. "Dende forbid he have any other friends besides you, right Trunks?"

"Well, when you put it that way . . . ." He rolled his eyes, but he had to admit, it sounded a bit silly.

"Come on, sweetie, it's all part of growing up. You boys need to blaze your own trails. A strong friendship like yours will last through anything, but you can't force it." She thought about her own experience. "Do you know how much I used to hate it when we were kids and Goku would leave for years at a time? I thought about him constantly. But Master Roshi knew that he needed to do it in order to learn and grow. Goku's a better person for all those adventures he had. And we're still dear friends to this day! It'll be the same with Goten. He's so much like his dad."

"Try telling him that." Trunks almost smiled but for the sinking feeling in his gut that the adventures Goten was after were not exactly the same as those of his father. But his mother was just trying to help. He sighed and let her pull him in for a hug. "Thanks, Mom."

"Of course," she said, ruffling his bangs like she did when he was little.

Gohan came back from the storage room then and the two decided to take their leave.

"See you Friday!" Trunks said as he waved goodbye to his mother.

"Friday?" Gohan looked confused.

"That's right!" Trunks beamed. "I'm going to be working here again." Gohan slapped a palm to his forehead and groaned. He wondered when he would ever get some rest. "Hey!" Trunks complained. "That's not exactly the reaction I was going for!"

The sounds of Bulma's silvery laughter echoed through the lab even after the two demis had left.

"Our boys," she mused quietly, thinking of Trunks, Goten, and Gohan. Whenever she saw one of them, she couldn't help but think about the strange story of her own life. If anyone had told her when she was a girl that she would befriend a monkey-tailed boy and grow up to marry the prince of his alien race, she was sure she would have keeled over and died right there. And that was only the tip of the iceberg. Still, she was glad no one had ever warned her. Then she might have missed all this.

She was still lost in her thoughts when Vegeta entered the room through the same door where the boys had recently left.

"Woman, the food is ready." He had a nice way of calling her to dinner. He crossed his arms and leaned against the far wall, but she could tell he was smiling.

Nope, she wouldn't trade this for the world.

***

"I'm gonna hit the hay," Gohan announced after they'd wolfed down a quick dinner of leftover takeout. "I don't suppose your bedroom was fixed today?"

Trunks trotted down the hall to take a quick look then shook his head apologetically. "Hey, what the hell is all this plastic wrap?" he asked, his tenor rising in annoyance.

"Ugh, I told them not to do that." Gohan's voice sounded tired. Glancing at him from the hallway, Trunks saw that he was still seated at the dinner table, staring down at his empty plate, his fingers pressing into his temples. He shut the door quietly and came back to the dining room.

"Come on, Gohan," he said, putting a hand on his roommate's shoulder. Trunks couldn't help but think that the older man needed a good night's sleep. Among other things. He trailed his fingers through the other's spiky hair, massaging the scalp beneath. Gohan closed his eyes and leaned his head back at the sensation. "We can both sleep in your bed. It's no big deal."

Gohan didn't speak for a few minutes, wanting nothing more than to relax and let those fingers massage away the tension he was feeling. It was only fair, really. It was Trunks who had given him this headache after all. "I don't know, Trunks . . . ."

The fingers immediately stopped their comforting movements and Trunks leaned against the table next to Gohan. Sitting lightly on the edge, he crossed his arms and observed the other demi. "Why not?"

"It's just . . . I don't know . . . ."

"Well, I do." Trunks' face became a mask of stoicism. "It's because you think I'm gay."

Gohan nearly choked. "What? No! Of course I don't--." Well that wasn't exactly true. "I mean, it doesn't matter if you—." He stumbled over his words, which weren't coming out right at all. He really would have preferred avoiding the whole topic. "Really, I don't care about any of that!" he insisted, waving his hands and trying to undo whatever offense he'd caused.

Trunks continued to eye him suspiciously, making every effort to suppress a giggle at the scene his roommate was making. Then he decided to cut him a break. "Relax, Gohan, I'm not going to slit my wrists or anything." But the promise had the opposite effect and Gohan's face drained of all color. By now Trunks had to laugh. "Come on, you idiot," he said, pulling Gohan up from the chair and leading him down the hall. 'If you don't come to bed, I'll assume it's because of me and I'll get very self-conscious and weepy."

"Okay, okay," Gohan agreed sheepishly, following the younger boy. He really couldn't articulate a reason that they shouldn't sleep in the same bed. Except for the fact that they were adults and it was just weird. But that was silly, right? Either way, he didn't want to make Trunks feel bad.

The teen's amused grin pulled him out of his thoughts as they reached the bedroom door. "Can we spoon, Gohan?"

"Don't press your luck!"


	8. Chapter 8

leneypoo--Thanks for your review :) Well I've finally caught the story up on this site to the point where it is on the other sites. I hope to have chapter 9 up on all sites soon. Hope you'll stay tuned.

**Chapter 8**

The offices at Capsule Corp. were buzzing with activity. It was midday and the company's operations were in full swing. Lavender hair fell forward as the demi-Saiyan prince leaned over his desk, putting the finishing touches on a PowerPoint presentation his mother had assigned him to work on. Saving the file to a flash drive, he removed the shiny metal key from his computer and walked it out to the secretary. "Meena, would you please print out 25 stapled colored copies of this presentation? And make sure conference room 3B is reserved for the first Friday of next month. Oh, I guess it would be good to have some coffee and cakes delivered, too. Say by 10 a.m.?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Briefs," she answered with a smile. Then she pointed to a covered tray that was sitting atop a rolling cart along the wall. "Oh, and your lunch was just delivered."

"Awesome." Trunks picked up the tray and made his way back to his desk. His stomach growled. As he set the tray down he said a silent prayer of thanks for the existence of the Capsule Corp. kitchen staff.

His first day back at work had been a success so far. Bulma had even trusted him with a big presentation to potential investors, saying that the company should be represented by its future president. Plus, everyone seemed friendly and happy to have him back. Not to mention he finally had a reason to wear his new black suit.

Trunks lifted the silver cover off his plate and looked hungrily at the warm sandwich, where melted cheese was oozing from the edge of the toasted bread. Grilled cheese with bacon and tomato. His favorite. Deciding it was too messy to eat with his hands, he cut a huge chunk from the sandwich and speared it with a fork.

"What is that garbage you're eating?" The voice was unmistakable.

"Father?" Trunks looked up, his voice muffled by the giant piece of sandwich and fork that were still stuck in his mouth.

"French fries?" Vegeta queried as he sidled closer to the desk, his hands on his hips. "And a cheese sandwich? Is this how a warrior eats?"

Trunks swallowed loudly. "When there's no war, I guess," he muttered, then immediately regretted having answered. If there was one person he should know to hold his tongue around, it was Vegeta. Really, though, what would his father have him eat? The flesh of his enemies?

A second piece of cheese sandwich stuck in his throat. Come to think of it, hadn't he once heard Vegeta brag about doing just that?

The pure blooded Saiyan growled. "Next time you fight Kakarott's son, you won't lose. The woman told me you have an hour for lunch. That's plenty of time." Vegeta lifted his son by the shirt collar and dragged him out of his chair and towards the office door.

"But—father!" The young prince gasped for air. Dropping his knife and fork onto the floor, he reached up to slide a few fingers between the skin of his neck and his shirt collar. Once able to breathe, he picked up his pace to try to keep up with Vegeta, but the way his father pulled him forward by the neck made his feet slip out from under him every few steps.

Vegeta wore black spandex pants and an impossibly tight blue tank top. For a man of such small stature, Vegeta was huge. His muscled form was perhaps the most well-defined of all the Saiyans Trunks knew. Anyone could tell by looking at the man's physique that his one and only goal in life was training. Vegeta stood out like a sore thumb among the conservatively dressed Capsule workers who were darting back and forth across the hallway. But the man was, as always, completely at ease and full of confidence.

Trunks watched the faces of his coworkers pass by as he was led unceremoniously down the halls of the compound. He couldn't help but be embarrassed, although the sight was something they had long ago grown accustomed to. The demi knew there was no use trying to escape, nor would he have ever defied his father. His worst fear was only that he would disappoint the man. He wished he'd at least been able to eat before their spar so he wouldn't be running on empty.

As they reached the gravity chamber, Vegeta pulled his son around in front of him and, still holding him by the collar, roughly tossed the boy towards the door. "This was really expensive," Trunks complained, straightening his shirt.

"Off with it, then."

***

"How's my favorite employee?" Bulma sang as she entered the bioengineering lab.

Gohan smiled at her. "Now what would Trunks say if he heard that?"

She smiled and waved her hand dismissively. The demi-Saiyan turned back to the microscope that stood on the table in front of him. Closing one eye, he peered into the lens, wishing Bulma would quietly walk away, but knowing it was hopeless. He could tell by her overly friendly greeting that she wanted something.

"Speaking of Trunks," she began, and Gohan groaned inwardly. Speaking of Trunks was all he did these days. Whether it was consoling Goten over the older boy's latest stunt or filling Bulma in on his classes and grades, it seemed one way or another the purple-haired prince was always in his thoughts. He looked at Bulma warily, but she ignored the expression. "I'm putting him in charge of the presentation to Capital Investment Corp. next month and—."

Surprised, Gohan couldn't help but cut her off. "But Bulma! That's a group of venture capitalists we've been working on for two years. Without their endorsement, we could lose the stronghold we have right now as the world leader in nanorobotics—."

"I know that," she responded airily, as if the topic was the Capsule kitchen's soup du jour instead of the future of an entire subdivision of her company. "But he's been so eager to take on more responsibility around here and I really want him to know that I trust him."

"Well, that's a pretty big deal to be stroking his ego with!" Gohan noted in disbelief, but it was clear that Bulma had made up her mind.

"Well, that's why I wanted to ask you to keep an eye on the situation for me. You know, just look over his shoulder and make sure he's doing a good job with everything. I'm sure it won't be too much trouble," she assured him.

"Trouble? Trunks? Oh, no . . . never." Gohan rolled his eyes, not managing to keep the sarcasm from saturating his tone.

Bulma placed a delicate hand on his chest. "Oh, Gohan, you're so melodramatic!" With an amused laugh she waved goodbye. "Thanks, hun! Oh, and let's keep this just between the two of us, okay?"

Unbelievable, he thought, shaking his head. The whole family.

Deciding that the microscopic organisms he'd been half-heartedly studying could wait, he loosened his tie and pulled it over his head. Then, grabbing a gym bag from the floor near his desk, he headed to the locker rooms in the basement of the complex. His training routine was the one thing he felt totally in control of these days. There were so many times over the years that he'd been grateful for the lessons he'd learned from Piccolo. Gohan was sure that the intense amount of focus and control the Namekian had instilled in him had saved him from losing his mind on more than one occasion.

As he headed downstairs, he made a mental checklist of his current projects and added Trunks' investor presentation to the list. He sighed, wondering why it was that 'Gohan' and 'responsibility' seemed always to be synonymous.

After changing into his favorite blue t-shirt and orange gi, Gohan headed towards the outdoor gravity chamber. At the same time, the demi-Saiyan prince practically fell out of the chamber and into the cool afternoon air. God the normal gravity felt good, he thought. Vegeta was a damned maniac about training.

As tough as sparring with Gohan had been, there was at least a method to Gohan's madness. They would engage in a round of battle, which would end when one of them bested the other. Then they would regroup and begin again. Vegeta, on the other hand, didn't hold one single ounce back from his opponent. He seemed not to know the meaning of the word 'regroup' and only attacked head on and with full force, overwhelming the enemy and usually quickly defeating them. The fact that he was fighting family didn't change things in the least. Trunks felt like he was fighting for his life in there.

But the teen was satisfied with his performance. At least he hadn't succumbed to his father without putting up a good fight, managing to hold his own the entire hour with some skills that had resurfaced when he was pushed hard enough. It was the same fight he had spent his whole life training for, after all.

Still, it was exhausting. He leaned against the outside wall of the chamber to catch his breath and made a mental note to bring workout clothes with him tomorrow.

"What happened to _you_?" Gohan's surprised-sounding voice came from several feet away.

Trunks breathlessly gestured towards the door of the chamber where Vegeta had just appeared, looking a bit flushed but otherwise unfazed by the exercise. "Ah." Gohan nodded in understanding.

"You want to have a go?" the pureblooded Saiyan challenged the new arrival. Clearly he had plenty of energy left. Gohan nodded affirmatively. He usually worked out during his lunches and more often than not he ended up facing Vegeta. The older man was never far from the training facilities.

Vegeta disappeared back into the chamber and Gohan looked at Trunks again. The teen wore only his grey undershorts. He was resting with his backside against the wall of the yellow building, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. His breathing was heavy, but his color was quickly returning to normal. Gohan could see several bruises and red marks beginning to form where energy attacks had taken their toll.

But it was nothing Trunks wouldn't recover from. In fact, he didn't even really look beat up. He looked well worked, strong, and healthy, if a little winded. _Like a Saiyan is supposed to look_, Gohan found himself thinking as he watched the boy finally straighten his back and lean his shoulders heavily on the wall behind him. Something that was deep within him appreciated that picture. The aftermath of the battle. The straining of taut muscles; flushed skin and panting breath; sweat dripping down a heaving chest . . . .

He once heard someone in his high school gym class say that the most intimate contact one could have with another person, short of having sex, was to work out with them. The unwelcome thought entered his mind as his eyes locked with his roommate's.

Gohan blinked then turned towards the chamber. With a quick wave at the other demi he disappeared inside.

***

The rest of Gohan's work day was uneventful, save for a mistake by one of his new hires which led to the cross-contamination of several explosive chemicals. A related lab fire and general panic followed. But these things he could handle. A certain azure-eyed demi-Saiyan disaster was another story.

The aforementioned teen entered his office at five o'clock on the dot. Trying his best to ignore the prince, Gohan hurried to finish the computation he'd been working on. He was aware of Trunks watching him as he punched numbers into the calculator; then Trunks would look at the clock, then back at him. But the elder Son continued to focus on the page without paying him any mind. Trunks eventually crossed his arms and fell into one of the two plush chairs in front of the desk with an audible sigh.

Gohan scribbled a few equations onto the notepad in front of him. The younger boy crossed and uncrossed his legs, leaned his head onto the backrest of the chair, and eventually lifted it up again.

"Jesus, don't you ever stop?" he finally snapped. "You know what they say about 'all work and no play' . . ." He trailed off, looking at the other man expectantly.

"Hmm?" The older demi pretended to consider it, holding his pencil to his lips. "All work and no play . . . got me where I am today?" he asked innocently as his mouth curled into a big smile.

"Not even close." Trunks rested his cheek on his palm, frowning. The man was a lost cause. "Look, it's five o'clock on a Friday. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Gohan shrugged. He really didn't know what Trunks was getting at.

"Happy hour!" the prince cried in exasperation. "We've already missed ten precious minutes of two-zeni rail drinks across the street!" Gohan looked unmoved so Trunks switched tactics. "That's not to mention the hamburgers. They're the best in the city! Toasted onion roll, melted cheddar cheese, ground beef cooked to a perfect medium-well . . . ." Trunks licked his lips. "But at this rate, we won't even get a seat!"

"You should really do a commercial," Gohan encouraged him without looking up from his papers.

"You should really come with me."

Trunks was on the verge of whining. Finally Gohan put his pencil on the desk and looked up to meet his beseeching gaze. "Can't," he informed the boy none-too-delicately.

"Why?" Trunks reminded him of a child with how often he demanded an answer to that question.

"I'm going out to Mount Paozu for dinner tonight. I promised Mom a few weeks ago." Really, he would have preferred happy hour. He loved his parents, but visiting them had the potential to involve a nasty run-in with Videl and far more of his mother's opinions on his love life than he cared to hear. With his recent preoccupations, he hadn't been dwelling as much on the topic of his ex-wife anymore. But tonight promised to bring it all to the forefront again.

"Oh." Trunks now sounded resigned. It appeared he accepted the excuse. "Well, maybe next week."

Gohan tossed the papers he'd been working on into his briefcase and, in order to save time, the two flew rather than walked to their apartment. Chichi wouldn't be happy if Gohan was late. Tonight it would be just him and his mother and father. His mother had proudly informed him that Goten was eating dinner at his new girlfriend's house and meeting her parents. Although he had tried to match her enthusiasm, Gohan couldn't help but feel a bit put out at the news. He wanted to be happy for his brother, but for some reason he found himself thinking with concern about Trunks. Obviously, it was information that he did not intend to share with his roommate.

As they touched down behind their building, Trunks caught the other man regarding him with contemplative eyes. Something about his expression made Trunks apprehensive. "Gohan," he nervously pushed a few strands of hair off his forehead. "What is it?"

Gohan pressed his lips together. He had to be more careful around Trunks. One could hardly hope to hide anything from him. "Nothing," Gohan said. He was a horrible liar, but Trunks didn't call him out on it. He didn't really want to know what it was that made Gohan look at him with such pity in his obsidian eyes.

"Really, I'm just . . . a little concerned about dinner tonight," Gohan finally admitted. He thought steering the conversation to another topic might help clear the air. "I'm sure Videl knows I'm coming and will have saved up several weeks' worth of nasty comments to unleash on me when I get there. Not to mention . . . ." Well, he really didn't have to mention his mother. Trunks knew her well enough himself. The teen nodded sympathetically as they rounded the building and entered the lobby.

A few moments later the two men entered the apartment, which was already darkening as the sun dipped lower on the horizon. Trunks tossed his jacket over the back of the couch and settled into the cushions to turn on the television. It looked like he was in for an exciting night of primetime sitcoms. While Gohan dressed, he leafed through a few takeout menus that lay on the coffee table.

Minutes later, Gohan emerged from his room having changed for dinner. He wore a nice pair of dress slacks, the same button-down shirt he'd worn to work, and one of his trademark—and in Trunks' opinion god awful—sweater vests.

The younger boy jumped up off the couch as he suddenly had an idea. "Gohan, don't leave yet!" he instructed his roommate, quickly scampering off to his room. When he returned, Gohan could hear the soft rustle of plastic and see that he was holding something behind his back. "I was going to save this for Christmas, but . . . ." He produced the gift proudly. "I think you should wear it tonight! Remember what I said about Videl?" He winked and flashed all his teeth in a smile.

"Oh, god, Trunks . . . ." Gohan stared in disbelief at the mahogany suit he had tried on several days before when Trunks dragged him shopping. The one that would have cost him a month's salary or more. The teen must have returned to the store and bought it after he had left. It was a nice gesture but . . . . "There's no way I can accept that," Gohan said flatly.

"Don't be silly, of course you can." Trunks knew it was expensive, but he had wanted to buy it for Gohan because of how much the other demi had helped him over the last few weeks. Keeping him company, even though he knew it wasn't always Gohan's favorite thing to do; looking out for him; helping him with his school work. All of that was worth at least a few thousand zeni. "Really, Gohan, I insist! Consider it as a thank you for everything you've done for me lately." He smiled and held the garment out again.

"If you really want to thank me, Trunks, you could just try staying out of trouble, cleaning up after yourself, and showing me through your actions that some of the things I say actually get through to you."

Trunks looked confused, then hurt. He threw the garments onto a nearby chair. "Fine. I'll be sure to . . ." he shrugged "take out the garbage tomorrow or something." Then, with a dismissive wave he flopped back down on the couch. As if any amount of housework could compare to his amazing and thoughtful gift! Gohan was so ungrateful!

The older demi stood in place for a moment, wondering what more he could say to make Trunks understand, but the teen had completely missed the point. Giving up and leaving the other boy to sulk, Gohan turned and headed for the door.

As he swung it open with a swoosh of air, he told himself to just keep going, to close the door behind him, and to put Trunks out of his thoughts for the next three hours. He told himself it would be a nice break. But not listening to his own advice, he hesitated in the doorway then glanced back into the living room. Although the TV was on, the young prince was staring unseeingly at the coffee table. His mouth was creased into a frown and his eyes looked . . . unsure. Gohan hoped he was thinking about what he'd said.

He turned again to leave and closed the door tightly behind him. While waiting for the elevator, he wondered if Trunks would just sit there all night staring at the table. He had also noticed that the boy tended to overreact in situations where he felt hurt. What if Gohan left him alone and he got the idea in his head to go out and do something stupid again? As the elevator doors opened, he ignored them and turned back towards their flat. "You know, Trunks . . ." he said, opening the door wide again, "if you want, I mean if you're hungry, you can come out to Mt. Paozu with me. I'm sure there'll be plenty of food."

An appeased smile flashed on the boy's features for a moment but almost immediately faded. "But what about—."

"Goten won't be there," Gohan quickly informed him. He hoped Trunks wouldn't ask his usual "why's." But his roommate seemed happy just to have been invited and didn't bother with the details.

He only jumped up from the sofa. "Just lemme change. I'll be really quick, I promise!"

***

A half hour later they touched down outside the Son residence just as the sun was setting. When Gohan opened the front door, the house seemed to come to life.

"Oh, Gohan!" Chichi ran to him, throwing her arms around him so that even he had to steady himself on a nearby kitchen chair to avoid being thrown off balance. After squeezing him in her arms, she pulled back slightly and felt her son's ribs. "Are you getting enough to eat? You look so tired! Aren't you sleeping? Is Bulma working you too hard? Or . . . ."

She trailed off as Trunks stepped into the kitchen behind him. He smiled sheepishly. There was no way he could make an entrance like Gohan could in this kitchen. Chichi lived and breathed for her oldest boy. Not even Goten could get his mother's attention like that, and all Trunks was to the woman was Goten's little friend. And a bad influence on him, at that.

"Oh," she said, still speaking to Gohan, "you brought your roommate."

"Nice to see you, Chichi."

"Hey, Trunks." Goku entered the kitchen. "Son." He nodded to each boy in turn.

After exchanging pleasantries, the three Saiyans wasted little time sitting down for dinner. Chichi came to the table, which had been laid out with huge trays of food, after having a whispered phone conversation in the next room. Gohan looked as if he already knew what was coming.

"Well . . ." Chichi began uncomfortably, clearing her throat, "Videl needs to give some things to you Gohan. She asked me to call her when you got here."

"Fine," he answered curtly, rolling his eyes at Trunks as if to let him know that he would have been better off staying home and ordering takeout. A few seconds later, the knock came and Chichi ran to answer the door, putting on a big smile just before pulling it open.

"Videl!" she cooed. "You know you don't have to knock. You're family, you silly girl." Videl looked at her with derision but didn't say anything. Then her stare came to rest on the eldest boy.

"Gohan," she greeted him coldly.

"Hi, Videl." His response was just as obligatory and his voice gave away no emotion whatsoever. Trunks watched the exchange with interest, but it seemed to have come to an abrupt impasse after the awkward greetings.

"Oh," Chichi exclaimed, breaking the silence, "you look so pretty tonight, dear. Are those new . . . sweat pants?" She rapidly gave Videl a once-over, searching for something she could draw Gohan's attention to, but the girl wasn't giving her much to work with. Videl really did look as if she'd been cleaning the house all day and ridding it of the last of Gohan's things. She held a banker's box in her arms, which she now hoisted onto the nearby countertop. Putting her hands on her hips, she glared at Chichi, who ignored the look entirely. "Really, though, you're such a pretty girl. You could look beautiful in just about anything. Couldn't she, Gohan?"

Trunks' gaze turned from the two women to his roommate, wondering how he would respond. He marveled at Chichi's ability to freeze the entire room in an awkward silence and somehow think she was doing the estranged couple a favor. No wonder Gohan had been so wary about coming here.

But Gohan didn't react to the question. He approached his ex-wife. "So you brought some of my things over?" His tone was civil.

"Yes," she answered briskly. "This should be the last of it. I'm planning on making some changes at the house and I needed to make room." She glanced around the kitchen to see if anyone would challenge her. Their marital home had been built around the old hut where Goku was raised by his grandfather. Some part of her knew that the Son family had deeper ties to the property than she did, but now that Gohan had left, she couldn't see any reason to uproot her own life. He could live with Trunks or whomever he pleased as long as she could do the same.

Videl's violet eyes came to rest on the demi-Saiyan prince. He held her gaze for a long moment and then smirked. He was sure she wasn't very fond of him. She and Gohan got strapped with babysitting duty constantly when they were all kids. And every time Gohan had to run off and save the day he would leave Trunks and Goten with Videl. In retrospect, Trunks could see that, as a would-be superhero herself, she must have resented being relegated to babysitter while Gohan got all the glory. But even if she had good reasons, she had been nasty to the two boys and Trunks felt as little for her as she likely did for him.

She broke the eye contact first and turned to observe Goku, but the eldest Saiyan only continued eating in silence. Apparently he wasn't going to do anything to reclaim his grandfather's property from his previous daughter-in-law. Having gotten no appreciable response, she turned back to her ex. "See you, Gohan." With that she opened the front door to leave.

"Oh, don't you want to stay for dinner, dear?" Chichi waved towards the table and Trunks noticed that there was another plate with a fork and knife already laid out on the countertop. He realized this had been in the older woman's plans all along.

"No," Videl said, not turning around as she exited. Then, at least managing to have some respect for her elders, she added a quick, "thank you" before closing the door.

"Well that's a shame," Chichi commented with a disappointed frown as she took her place back at the table.

Gohan spoke up, deciding to put an end to his mother's nonsense finally. "It's better that she didn't stay. It's just awkward for everyone." He knew that she loved him dearly, but her efforts, no matter how well intentioned, were entirely in vain. Firmly, he said, "I appreciate your concern, Mom, but we're not getting back together."

"Now don't be too hasty, Gohan. A marriage takes a lot of compromise. It's normal to have fights and—."

"We're not married, Mom," he said calmly, doing his best to put an end to the topic of conversation, but his mother was incorrigible.

"How often must you remind me?" she cried, her composure having been lost. "I know that all of my hopes and dreams for you are gone! But you can't blame me for trying!"

Trunks wondered how Chichi's hopes and dreams for Gohan had been destroyed when he got divorced, considering he was still a very successful scientist, not to mention savior of the earth a few times over. But it didn't take him long to remember that Chichi's dreams for her sons related only to bringing money to the family, meeting nice girls, and settling down to have lots of children. He supposed that when Gohan had lost Videl, Chichi had lost the younger woman's money and her womb.

"Oh, who am I kidding?" She got up to move some dishes to the sink. "I know you don't care what I think, Gohan. The fact that you didn't even try to make things work is good evidence of how little you care."

"Mom!" Gohan was incredulous. No one could accuse him of not caring about his mother, least of all the woman herself. He had spent most of his young life taking care of her, molding his life to meet her expectations. He lowered his voice. "It wasn't as if I had much choice. You know what she did. How could I stay?"

Trunks observed his roommate. It was clear by the other man's voice that it was a topic he didn't want to expound on, but Trunks was beginning to suspect that Videl had been unfaithful. Before his mother had a chance to respond, Goku finally interjected. "He's right, Chichi. There are some things a marriage just can't survive." He shot his wife a meaningful look.

Realizing she was outnumbered, Chichi gave up the fight. But not without throwing in one last complaint. "I don't know why you had to move away, Gohan. If only you had stayed here maybe you could have worked things out."

Now it was Trunks' turn to speak up. "Well . . . I, for one, am really thankful to have Gohan in West City. I don't know what I would have done without him these past few weeks." He looked from Chichi to his roommate, then continued. "If not for him I'd probably be dead of starvation or . . . whatever by now. Not to mention the positive impact he's had on my grades and, well, so many things."

Gohan smiled. Even if Trunks' words had no effect on his mother at all, it was nice to hear them. Trunks returned the smile, then looked back at Chichi.

He made his tone much lighter, almost playful. "Yup, he's really saved me." He placed both hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. "You can call me selfish, but if you want him back, you'll have to fight me for him."

"Well," Chichi spat, "I'm glad you've managed to benefit from everyone else's misfortune, Trunks Briefs."

He shrugged and smiled brightly. "It really is great, isnt' it?"

"I swear!" Chichi turned all of her anger onto her new target. "As if you aren't spoiled enough as it is. What do you need my son for? I'm surprised your mother didn't just send a fleet of robots to tend to your every need . . . ." Trunks easily drowned her out as he watched Gohan get up from the table and take their plates to the sink.

Turning to face the teen from where he stood behind his mother's wildly gesturing form, Gohan mouthed a silent "thank you" to the younger boy. Trunks just winked.

"Are you even listening to me, young man?"

"Oh yes, Chichi-san," he assured her. "I heard every word and I couldn't agree more. I'm terribly spoiled and someone should probably have a talk with my mother."

"Oh, I plan on it!" Now it was Trunks' and Goku's turn to exchange amused glances. Both knew how Bulma hated getting those phone calls from Chichi and both thought it had been a few too many years since she'd received one.

The whole scene made Gohan wonder how often Trunks must have taken the blame over some misdeed or other to save Goten from their mother's wrath. He had to chuckle to himself. He knew Trunks too well to think that he'd never deserved the tongue-lashings he had gotten from Chichi. But he felt he had seen a new side of his friend tonight.

They all turned in the direction of the sound as the front door opened again. Trunks, who had been reclining his wooden chair on two legs, lost his balance and fell backwards to the floor with a loud crash.

Goten stood there in the door way, one hand digging around in the book bag that hung loosely from his shoulder, while the other hand hung slack after pushing open the door. He looked up to greet his family, but stopped dead when his eyes met Trunks'. His hand ceased its digging as his arm froze in an awkward position, elbow in the air. Whatever greeting he was about to utter was left hanging on his open lips.

Besides the two boys, Gohan was the only one who knew the reason for their strange behavior. He broke the silence. "Hey, Goten," he said, as cheerfully as he could manage, while at the same time rushing to help Trunks up off the floor. He wanted to ask what the hell Goten was doing home so soon, but any answer would have alerted Trunks to where the other boy had been and he didn't want to go there. However, he should have known it'd be all his mother wanted to talk about.

"Oh, Goten, sweetie, you're home! How was dinner? Did they have a nice house? How big was it?" She helped him out of his light jacket as he tried to get his bearings back and mumbled a few inaudible replies. "Well, regardless of that," Chichi continued, apparently unimpressed with whatever number of rooms Goten had disclosed, "I hope you made a good impression. Oh, it'd be so nice if one of my sons was able to give me grandchildren one day!"

Goten's cheeks colored and he looked intently at the ground. Gohan, who was still holding Trunks, let his mother's jab roll off his back. But he felt the younger boy grow heavier in his arms, leaning on him for more support as his legs apparently failed him. Trunks' expression was horrified.

But he was less upset to find out that Goten had been with his new girlfriend than he was to have seen the unadulterated look that flashed on Goten's features when they first locked eyes. It had looked like fear. Trunks suddenly felt horribly ashamed of the way he had treated Goten the last time he saw him. The younger boy's eyes had betrayed many emotions over the years; awe, lust, anger, pride, sadness, desire, jealousy. At times, he had even seen what he thought was love reflected there. But never had Goten looked at him with fear. Ever. The older boy felt his stomach turn.

"You look so handsome," Chichi continued, oblivious to the tension in the room. "I'm sure they liked you. Who could not like my son?" She smiled proudly to the other assembled Saiyans, but none of them returned her happy expression. Trunks looked miserable, Gohan looked panicky, and Goku looked at his food. Ignoring them all, Chichi turned back to her youngest. "Do you still have room for dessert, Goten? I made your favorite, sakuramochi!"

"I'm really tired, Mom," he informed Chichi quietly. "I think I'm gonna go to bed."

"Oh." Her face fell and Trunks noticed with amazement that, after years of having a strained relationship with his mother, Goten seemed to have very recently become her favorite. Growing up with Goten, Trunks had known that he felt like a disappointment when his mother compared him to his brother or father, as she so often did. And the younger boy had never forgotten when she called him a monster for displaying his super Saiyan abilities. Then, as they got older, she'd criticized him for spending too much time with Trunks instead of focusing on his studies or finding a nice girl to date. He'd always had to fight for her acceptance and eventually he'd just given up trying. But now, just that easily, he was the golden child.

Trunks had been aware of the pressures that Goten dealt with at home, but he'd never seen them so clearly displayed in front of his eyes as he did tonight. His own parents rarely bothered him about his personal life and never pushed him in any one direction or another. His father was happy so long as he was training and his mother was happy so long as he was happy. And although it wasn't often expressed, at least by his father, he had always felt that their love was a given, their acceptance unconditional. As it would be with any good parents. But Goten had no such assurances.

Trunks reeled at the notion of how truly beyond his reach Goten was. Because of Goku's absence in his life, Goten had never really been close to his father. His mother and Gohan had been the biggest influences on his young life. And even now, despite the extreme discomfort of the situation, Goten seemed to glow in his mother's newfound attention.

He had chosen his family over Trunks and, as much as he may have wanted to, the older boy couldn't hate him for that. He could only accept it.

"Well, you go and get your rest, sweetie," Chichi said, brightening a bit. "I'll make sure to save the biggest piece for you!" She walked directly over to the sweet rice cakes that were sitting on the counter top and placed the majority of them on a separate plate. Then she wrapped them up tightly for him to eat later, leaving only a few for the rest of them.

Goten managed a "thanks" and then dashed across his mother's kitchen, his only thought to make it to his room without any further incidents. But Trunks reached out for him as he passed.

"Goten."

The prince's fingers brushed the arm of his long-sleeved shirt but Goten didn't dare stop. Pushing his bangs across his forehead and refusing to meet Trunks' eyes, he shied away from the contact and disappeared down the hallway.

Even though his friend's tone and entire demeanor was different than it had been when they met on the quad, that single exchange had been all the Trunks that he could take for one week. He also worried about the way the other boy could read him; about that penetrating stare. He was afraid of what Trunks might see reflected in him tonight. The things he had done with Tiffany. The way he still felt about his childhood friend. The way he didn't know what to do or what he wanted or why.

He tightly closed the bedroom door behind him. Trunks had always been able to exploit that ambivalence in him. It was exactly that power that Goten needed to break free from in order to figure things out on his own. Yes, until he got his head straightened out, it was better to just stay away from his best friend. Even if it seemed so much easier to just let Trunks do his thinking for him. And even if, despite all that had happened, every time he saw Trunks he wanted to go to him, like being caught in a gravity field.

In the kitchen, the rest of the gathered company suffered through an amazingly uncomfortable dessert before Gohan announced that he and his roommate were leaving. Chichi made him promise not to stay away so long next time. But, even as Gohan agreed, in the back of his mind he knew that he wouldn't come back for as long as he could possibly manage.

***

The two Saiyan roommates flew home in silence. When they got there, Trunks went straight to his bedroom to take a shower and change into cotton sweatpants. But a half hour later, he stood outside the door to Gohan's room. The light was still on, so he quietly let himself in. When the door opened, Gohan looked up at him from the bed but didn't say anything. He turned his attention back to the box that sat in front of him. Trunks recognized it as the one Videl had given him.

Interpreting Gohan's silence as tacit acceptance, the young prince quickly crossed the hardwood floor and climbed into bed. He was thankful that the other man didn't protest. He really didn't want to be alone.

Gohan rummaged through the box with more pressing issues on his mind. In addition to going through the books, papers, and trinkets that were strewn on the bed in front of him, he had to wade through the bottled up emotions that all of his mother's words had created, but which he had refused to show in her kitchen.

He was also worried about Trunks and Goten. Rather than getting better, things between the two boys were starting to feel incredibly weird and strained. He looked at Trunks who was now lying on his side, facing the opposite wall. The teen had his head propped up with his left hand. With his right hand he was leafing through a book.

Gohan reached underneath some loose papers in the box and pulled out a few forgotten photographs. One was a picture from his wedding, which featured Chichi standing with the happy couple. There was another of him, his dad, and Goten at the World Martial Arts tournament on the day their father came back from Otherworld. The last one was a picture of him with Trunks and Goten at the lake near their house. He remembered that Videl had taken it, but he supposed she had no use for it anymore.

Blowing most of the dust off the glass, he set the latter two framed photos on his bedside table. Then he dropped the wedding picture back into the box along with all the other stuff he had laid out on the bed. Placing the box on the floor, he looked back at his bedmate and wondered if he should say anything to the younger boy about their trip to Mt. Paozu.

Trunks shifted in the bed to get more comfortable. He wasn't really reading the book he was staring at, but he wanted to appear as though he was doing something other than dwelling on their dinner. He could feel Gohan's eyes on him and didn't want the other demi to see how much the entire night had affected him. He didn't want to have to admit how badly he'd treated Goten and how much he regretted it; that Gohan was right and that he had acted like a brat. But most of all, he didn't want to come to terms with the realization that he was losing his boyhood friend for good.

He wished that he and Goten never had to grow up. He wondered why they couldn't have stayed happy, clueless adolescents forever, without having to question their feelings or worry about things like 'defining' themselves and giving Chichi grandchildren. He wondered when things had gotten so damned complicated and the whole thing was giving him a pounding headache.

He simply wanted to . . . . To leaf through the stupid book and ignore it all.

To just crawl into bed with Gohan, leaf through the book and ignore it.

To crawl into bed with Gohan and . . . .

He sighed. Aware of his roommate staring at him from a few feet away, he couldn't help but let his thoughts wander to those places where he knew they shouldn't be wandering. But which were only natural when one was sharing a bed with another person. Another really sexy person, no less.

Honestly, he wished Gohan would ravage him with more than just his eyes.

"You know, I'm not on display, Gohan," Trunks said without looking up from his book.

"Oh, no, of course not," the other managed, surprised and embarrassed that Trunks knew he'd been watching him. "I'm sorry, it's just . . . I feel terrible. I had no idea that he'd show up tonight."

Trunks ignored the apology. He did not want to think about Goten at the moment. "No," he chuckled softly, rolling over to face his roommate. "That's not what I meant." As he shifted his weight to his right arm, the sheet that was draped over him slid down his hips a few inches. "What I meant is that I'm not under glass." Meeting Gohan's eyes, the teen gave a demure shrug. "You're allowed to touch if you want."

Gohan just blinked at the other boy, momentarily frozen. He could feel his cheeks burning as he registered the scandalous invitation. Was Trunks entirely serious? And if so, how could he be so brash about the whole thing?

The older demi's eyes automatically drifted down to catch the movement of Trunks' hand where his long fingers were tapping impatiently on a naked hip bone just above his waistband. Snapping his gaze back to his roommate's face, Gohan noticed the younger man looking at him intensely. After a brief staring contest, Trunks inched closer. When he next spoke, Gohan could feel the cool, minty breath on his cheek. "Don't you ever want to stop thinking about your ex-wife?"

Gohan sucked in his breath as those same thin fingers brushed the comparatively feverish flesh of his abdomen.

"Knock it off, Trunks." He swatted the boy's hand away.

But, inching still closer, the prince continued, "I promise, I could give you lots of other things to think about." Before Gohan had a chance to react to the words whispered hotly in his ear, he felt Trunks' lips on his skin. The teen nipped at the sensitive area where his neck met his shoulder. Meanwhile, his fingers darted to explore the lines of Gohan's abdomen.

The older demi felt his blood rush at the intimate contact. Videl had been the only person ever to touch him this way. And how long had it been since she had done that? Since she had even looked at him with desire? He didn't care to add up the numbers.

"Trunks, don't," he implored, but the words came out far less sternly than he had wanted them to. And, not bothering to listen, Trunks pressed himself against his roommate. As he dipped his head to methodically lick and nibble the skin on the other man's collarbone, Gohan couldn't suppress a gasp. With practiced ease, the young prince slipped his tongue into the shallow pools where muscle and bone connected under milky white skin, lavishing attention on all of those parts of him that had been neglected for so long.

Gohan could feel the evidence of the other demi's desire on his thigh and he rolled his eyes miserably wondering how he'd ended up in this situation.

"You're so fucking hot, Gohan," the prince whispered against his neck. "Just let me touch you."

When he felt the slender fingers fumbling with his waistband, the sensation was enough to bring him round. He clapped his own palm over the offending hand, stopping it in its tracks, then looked at his roommate with an expression of warning. "And you are a hormonal teenager, Trunks. Get a hold of yourself." He pushed the prince's hand back toward its owner and sat up.

Trunks pouted. "I could get a hold of myself, but it'd be so much more fun if you got a hold of me instead." The younger boy pushed himself up on his hands and knees and attempted to punctuate the words with a kiss. As soon as Gohan realized what the teen was doing he backed up, but not before their lips brushed.

Gohan's hand automatically traveled to his mouth. "What is wrong with you?" he asked from behind his fingers, with no trace of anything left in his voice but annoyance.

Trunks blinked, looking as though Gohan had just hit him. "Nothing is wrong with me," he answered quietly.

"Oh, give it a rest," Gohan said, casting his eyes upwards at the ceiling in exasperation. "Your whole playing-the-victim routine is not going to work on me anymore. You're not some poor, misunderstood boy, Trunks. You just didn't get your way for once. And now you need to get over it."

The royal demi took a moment to respond. "Well—," he sputtered, a bit taken aback, "however you want to look at it, we're both in the same situation, you and me. You want to forget about her, and I want to stop thinking about Goten, too. I just thought we could help each other."

But the very honesty in those words steeled Gohan's resolve. Although his mind was still unraveling the mystery of how it had all happened, he realized it didn't bother him so much that another man was touching him so intimately. What bothered him was that this man was in love with someone else and that someone else was his very own brother. And for that reason, if no other reason, he could not allow anything to happen.

"So, whaddaya say?" Trunks asked sweetly, as he reached up to curl a lock of raven hair around his fingers.

Gohan grabbed his wrist and held it tight, pushing the stunned boy back so he could look into his eyes. "It's not going to happen. You're not trying to forget about Goten, you're trying to replace him." Gohan wanted to shake the boy. "Don't you see that you're the walking definition of transference?"

Trunks' lavender brows narrowed and his blue eyes darkened with the anger of rejection. "What a load of psychobabble crap!" he shot back. "Don't try to make this about me when it's you who's scared! Oh, I'm sorry, Gohan," he put his free hand over his mouth mockingly. "Did I almost make you feel something? I forgot everything you've ever felt is locked up inside you in a tiny little box and you've lost the key." He pulled his wrist from Gohan's grasp and rubbed the reddening marks there.

"It's called restraint, Trunks, and you should try it sometime," he suggested, standing up next to the bed.

"It's called repression, Gohan. And it's really pathetic."

"Oh, you think I'm repressed?" Trunks shook his head affirmatively and Gohan's voice got louder. "You think I'm repressed? That is so funny! Because if you ever turned those analytical eyes on yourself, I think you'd be surprised at what you'd see."

The younger boy said nothing and only glowered at Gohan from the bed. "Honestly, Freud could've written volumes about you," he continued, having little sympathy after the things Trunks had said about him. He decided to set the boy straight once and for all. "You have some kind of fucked up need for validation but you're not going to get it from me. So just stop buying me things, stop—," he waved his hands in exasperation, "stop crawling into my bed in the middle of the night, and stop generally trying to attach yourself to me. Because, really, I tired of babysitting you when I was eighteen." With black eyes flashing, he turned away and slammed the bedroom door behind him.

Trunks stared for some time at the wooden door after Gohan had left. Then he rolled over and drew the sheets around him. Sinking into the pile of down pillows, he thought of how glorious it would be if the brick wall of Gohan's resolve ever crumbled and all that passion was allowed to hit him like a tidal wave. Then he smiled to himself. It was bound to happen sooner or later.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has sent me comments here and on AFF or Boxer and Rice. I really appreciate them and enjoy reading you guys' take on the story and your input on things. I hope you'll enjoy the coming chapters and let me know what you think :)

**Chapter 9**

"Hmmm."

Trunks tapped his fingers on his chin as he stared at the computer screen in front of him. Almost two weeks had passed since he had decided to transfer to Weston and he figured it was about time that he submit the transfer application. Instead of working on his investor presentation, he had spent a good part of his Friday morning at Capsule filling out the sections on background, test scores, and educational data. Now it was time for the essay questions.

"Why do you wish to leave your present college or university?" he read aloud to himself.

How to explain this one?

He spoke the words aloud as he pecked the corresponding keys. "Goten is fucking some blond tramp." Trunks looked at the cursor. Yup, that was about right. He tabbed down to the next question.

"Describe your family and its influence on you."

His fingers moved across the keyboard quickly. "Daddy didn't hug me enough, and mommy gave me everything I wanted. Do the math."

Sighing he scrolled down to the next page. He had told his mother he wanted to do things the right way and go through the rigors of the application process just like everyone else, but he was quickly learning that the "right way" was exhausting. Especially knowing that he could ask Bulma to simply exert her influence over the board and save himself all the trouble. But deep down, he knew it wasn't the right thing to do. And a certain someone, whose high opinion he had recently been determined to earn, would most certainly point that out to him.

Reluctantly, he decided to continue on to the next question. "Besides academic qualifications, what strong personal qualities do you believe you could bring to this educational institution?" He chewed his bottom lip while contemplating the question. Good qualities. He was sure he had many, but all he could hear were Gohan's ridiculous accusations ringing in his ears and he didn't think 'hormonal teenager' was a positive asset. He wondered what it was that Goten had once seen in him, that had kept him close all those years. But from the way Goten had acted on the night that he left, Trunks couldn't help but wonder if Goten only stayed out of habit. Or because he'd been afraid to stand up to Trunks. Not out of anything good that Trunks had to offer.

The demi-Saiyan prince pouted. This little exercise was only serving to depress him. "Meena!" he yelled as he stood up from his desk and marched towards the reception area. "You've worked here for a long time and you've known me for awhile. What strong personal qualities do I possess?" He waited expectantly. Surely she would come up with something nice to say about him. Hell, it was practically her job.

"Well according to Chichi, your strongest personal qualities are selfishness and egotism. Oh, and I think I heard the words 'spoiled brat' thrown in there one too many times." The young prince rolled his eyes then turned to face his mother. Standing in the door to his suite, her arms were crossed sternly over the front of her long orange dress. Those pretty blue eyes that he had inherited were narrowed dangerously.

Trunks flashed Bulma his most practiced smile. "Hi, Mother!"

"Don't 'hi-mother' me, young man!" Her voice hit a higher pitch as she stepped closer. "I just had to listen to that woman rant for a half an hour. And if I have to get an earful, then you're going to get an earful. Besides, I thought I raised you to have respect for your elders."

"But I do!" he insisted. "Really, you can ask Gohan. I didn't even do anything. Chichi just has it out for me!"

"Oh? And why is that? You must have done something to deserve it."

"Nothing that I can think of," Trunks lied, as he mentally tallied up the list of offenses that Chichi could probably hold against him. Then he lifted his nose into the air defiantly. "If I'm guilty of anything, it's only sticking up for a friend. Chichi thinks Gohan should have stayed with Videl even though she cheated on him, but I said--."

Bulma gasped. "She cheated?! Gohan won't say a word to me about it! What do you know?"

"Well, nothing specific," he admitted. "But that was definitely the impression I got from our visit to Mount Poazu." He lowered his voice dramatically, eager to get his mother off the topic of yelling at him and interested in something else. "Goku said she did something unforgivable."

"Wow, poor Gohan." She frowned. But when she next spoke, her voice had softened noticeably. "Well, you're a good friend for sticking up for him. But you really shouldn't interfere in their family affairs."

"I know. And I usually don't, but--."

"And I hope you're not being too much trouble at home, especially considering all that Gohan is going through."

"No! I'm not! Why? Did he say something--."

"You know," Bulma cut him off again, starting to pace the floor, "I could send some robots over to your apartment so that Gohan wouldn't have to worry about all the cooking and cleaning and--."

Now it was Trunks' turn to interrupt his mother. "Hello!" He waived his hands above his head. The lack of faith everyone seemed to have in him was really getting annoying. He wasn't usually the one to turn down a free ride, but after thinking of the 'strong personal qualities' people had attributed to him lately, he was feeling defensive. "I live there, too, you know. I can do all that stuff."

Bulma stopped pacing and looked at her son. "Trunks," she sighed, "I'm sure you can do it, but sometimes it's easier just to let other people deal with these things."

"What like you and Gohan? I'm just as capable as the two of you. Only I never get the chance to prove it because you two treat me like a twelve-year-old!"

"Okay, okay," she said in acquiescence. "Have it your way. But just let me know if you change your mind."

"Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt," Meena cut in, "but it's almost noon." She pointed at the clock above the door.

"Oh, right," Trunks said, snapping his fingers. "Thanks!" He darted into his office to grab a grey peacoat. "Gotta go, Mom. We'll talk later, okay?" He shot her another winning smile as he darted out the door. "Bye!"

Gohan did a half-turn as the demi-Saiyan prince raced past him in the hallway. "Hey, Trunks! I was just coming to talk to you --."

"No time, Gohan!" the younger boy shouted over his shoulder. "Take a raincheck."

Gohan stood there in the hall for a moment after Trunks disappeared into the stairwell. Damn, he thought to himself. He really needed to see Trunks' work on the investor presentation Bulma had asked him to check up on. The meeting was going to be held next Friday morning, so this was Trunks' last working day to prepare for it and probably Gohan's last chance to see it before the big day. Gohan would be tied up in meetings all afternoon and if he couldn't talk to Trunks during lunch, he didn't know when he would do it.

The blue-haired woman stepped out of her son's office at that moment. "Oh, hey Bulma," Gohan greeted her. "Do you know where Trunks ran off to?"

"No, I'm sorry, I don't," she answered, her tone dripping with sweetness. "But if you need to talk to somebody, you know you can tell me anything." She put both hands on his shoulders and looked up at him, her features saturated with concern.

"Uh…that's okay." He looked at her skeptically. "I'll just find him later."

"Why don't you wait in his office, hon?" She ushered him into the suite. "I'm sure he'll be right back." If Gohan had decided to open up to Trunks about his ruined marriage and broken heart, then she wanted to do everything in her power to encourage it. She always thought he held way too much back, and she was sure it just couldn't be healthy. Whenever she was upset about something, she made sure to let the whole world know.

Bulma pushed Gohan into one of the overstuffed leather chairs in front of Trunks' desk. "I've known you since you were only this big," she gushed, putting her hand out in front of her narrow waist. "And you just know I'd do anything for you or your family. You do know that, don't you, Gohan?"

"Well, sure, Bulma. You've been a great friend. I'm sure I speak for my dad, too, when I say we couldn't have asked for a better friend."

"Aw." She put her hand over her heart and gave him a little smile before turning to leave. "I'll see you at one, Gohan. Don't forget about the meeting!" she sang as she exited the office.

"Wow, she's in an awfully good mood," he said to himself when she was out of earshot. Then he got up out of the chair. He didn't plan to sit in Trunks' office and wait for him to come back. For all he knew, the younger demi had cut out early and didn't plan to come back at all. But as he turned to leave, his eyes came to rest on the computer that was sitting on Trunks' desk.

The presentation had to be saved on there, right? Gohan glanced at the door. If he could simply get it from Trunks' computer while he was out, then he wouldn't have to come up with some way to trick the other demi into showing it to him. "Meena," Gohan yelled over his shoulder. "Do you have any idea where he went?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Son, I don't," she answered, appearing in the doorway. "Oh, maybe he has a lunch date!" she suggested cheerily. "Wouldn't that be lovely?" She stared dreamily past him and clasped her hands over her chest. The Capsule heir's love life was of great interest to the secretaries and assistants, but he rarely ever gave them anything to talk about, so they often resorted to speculation.

"Uh, yeah, maybe." Gohan thought it was more likely that Trunks was trying to avoid a certain lunch date. It occurred to him that Vegeta usually carted the boy off to train around noon. And if that was the case, then he probably wouldn't be back for at least an hour. "Thank you," he said, dismissing the daydreaming woman.

He closed the door behind her and made his way towards Trunks' desk. He really hated sneaking around like some kind of thief, but it was all for Trunks' benefit in the end. So he grabbed the mouse and began scrolling through the recent documents until he found one called '.' Gohan opened the file and clicked through a few of the slides. It appeared to be a rather large file and he decided to email the presentation to himself to review later. That way hopefully he would be in and out before Trunks would even realize it. He opened a new browser window and began uploading the file to his account.

Gohan jumped when the door to Trunks' office opened suddenly. With a series of rapid clicks, he closed the presentation and the browser window, along with a couple of other screens that had popped up. With as innocent a look as he could manage, he peeked his head out from behind the screen to face the intruder.

"Dammit, what are you doing here? And where is that wayward son of mine?"

"Vegeta." Gohan breathed a sigh of relief. "Sorry to disappoint, but I think he may be avoiding you."

"Why that little--!" Vegeta made a fist. "How dare he?"

Meena appeared behind the angry Saiyan. "Oh, don't be too hard on him, sir!" she implored with a bright smile. "He's in love!"

Gohan and Vegeta both groaned audibly. "You take his messages for him, don't you?" Vegeta inquired.

"Yes, sir," she replied.

"Then write this down. Tell him when I get my hands on him, I'll make him regret the day he was born." Then he turned to Gohan, who was now standing alongside him. "You and me, then?"

"Lead the way."

***

Trunksslowed his pace when he got a few blocks from Capsule Corp. So long as he kept his ki as low as the surrounding humans, his father probably wouldn't be able to track him down. He didn't relish the idea of angering his father, but occasionally, it was worth it.

One particular memory surfaced in his mind. The seventeen year old demi-Saiyan prince had been on his way to the gravity chamber, where his father was waiting for him, when Goten and his family had shown up for a visit. Trunks had excused himself to go and meet Vegeta when, as he was walking down the hall, Goten had appeared behind him and dragged him into a utility closet. "Goten, what are you doing?" Trunks had asked, amazed at his friend's uncharacteristic audacity. "You look way too good in spandex to waste it on Vegeta," Goten had insisted, his eyes sparkling in the darkness. "Come on, he'll never find us here."

The teen's face flushed at the memory. That time had been more than worth the eventual ass-kicking he'd suffered as a result. But today he had no such scintillating plans. Today he was going grocery shopping. After Gohan had shunned his expensive gift the week before, Trunks had struggled to understand what it was that his roommate wanted from him. He had made an effort to be more self-sufficient at home, and not leave clothes and dishes all over the house. But it hardly felt like the grand gesture he had been going for. And although Gohan had been in a better mood ever since Trunks had started doing his own dishes, it wasn't the undying gratefulness the teen had hoped to inspire.

So, after some thought, he had decided to surprise his roommate to a home-cooked, sit-down dinner and he was very happy with his plan. It would be the perfect mix of thoughtfulness and effort and Gohan would just have to be floored. Plus, making dinner couldn't be that hard, Trunks figured. If unsophisticated robots could do it, surely he could, too. But since his side of the fridge contained nothing but moldy leftovers, he'd need to pick up a few supplies first.

Once at the store, Trunks made his way down aisle after aisle, picking up whatever looked good. After a while, he had chicken, rice, ketchup, garlic, potato chips, broccoli, carrots, soy sauce, and chocolate fudge. As the pile grew higher, he wished he had thought to pick up a cart at the front of the store; or, for that matter, to decide on a recipe in advance. As he turned to walk towards the register, he surveyed the ingredients in his arms. Everything he had picked up tasted good, so he was sure he could figure out some delicious way to combine it.

Trunks looked up just in time to see a girl making a mad dash directly towards him. She was absorbed in playing with the watch on her wrist and not watching where she was going. He jumped to the side and spun to avoid her, watching her pass in complete oblivion. If he didn't have such quick reflexes, he would no doubt be standing among a big mess of spilled groceries right now.

"Hey," he shouted after the girl, "you should really watch where you're going!" Finally becoming aware of her surroundings, she turned around to see what had happened. Trunks recognized her right away as Tiffany's friend Kim; the girl who had introduced herself on the first day of school. "Oh, it's you." He made a face, then turned back in the direction of the cashier. For all he knew, the girl was really nice, but he associated her with Goten's fan club and couldn't help the feeling of contempt that washed over him.

Recognizing him as well, she put both hands on her hips. "Well if it isn't the reluctant Capsule heir himself." Trunks figured she was referring to the way he'd refused to admit to his identity when they'd first met. He ignored the comment and kept walking. But her next statement wasn't so easy to disregard. "You know, your family is really a bunch of crooks! I don't know how you sleep at night."

"Excuse me?" Trunks demanded, turning around.

She held her left arm up and pointed to the watch she was wearing. "You know, I've wanted one of these things for months and I finally get it for my birthday but the stupid thing doesn't even work."

For the first time, he noticed the gadget that she had been fiddling with when she almost ran into him. "Oh, that's one of ours. The D-2752." He had worked on the tag line for that advertisement the previous summer. "A wireless communication device with fashion sense," he finished absently.

"A piece of junk," Kim corrected him matter-of-factly, crossing her arms over her chest in a huff.

"I promise you, it's well-made," Trunks narrowed his eyes and spoke in an overly patient tone. "But there's a very sensitive Bluetooth chip in there that can be knocked out of place. Especially if the person wearing it makes a habit of not looking where she's going and running into people left and right."

The two regarded each other indignantly. Then Kim's posture relaxed and she looked down at the ground. She had to admit, she was sort of a klutz. On the very day that she'd gotten the watch, in her excitement to show all of her friends, she had rushed out into the hallway of their dormitory and tripped on the loose carpeting. She supposed it was possible that the watch got knocked around a bit.

When she met his eyes again, she looked somewhat embarrassed. She had been annoyed that her new accessory was broken, and the last thing she needed was some guy yelling at her in the grocery store. She'd never expected to see Mr. Capsule himself standing there when she looked up. And although she'd been ready to give whoever it was a piece of her mind, seeing him had made her even angrier. But she was beginning to regret her hot-headedness. Everyone at her school was clamoring for a piece of this guy. And here she was yelling. She suddenly felt like an idiot.

"Sorry," she said.

Trunks noticed her change of attitude and he relaxed, too. "No big deal." Then his eyes drifted back to her wrist. "Hey, why don't I take a look at that for you? I bet I could fix it myself."

"Really?" She looked at him suspiciously. "But why would you do that?"

"Because having you walk around town calling us crooks has got to be bad for business."

"Okay," she agreed, after a moment. "I guess that'd be alright."

"Just let me pay for this and then you can come back with me to Capsule. Oh, and hey. Maybe there's something you can do for me, too."

Great, she thought, here comes the catch.

The Capsule heir blinked at the armful of goodies he was carrying. "Do you know if there's anything I could make for dinner with all of this?"

***

"I'm sorry for making you walk all over the city with me," Trunks apologized as the doorman let the two students into his building. "I forgot I had to drop these groceries off at home first."

"That's okay," Kim answered, looking around at the lobby decor. "It's not as if I can go back to my room anyway," she said absently.

"Why not?"

"Oh, the old sock on the door." She rolled her eyes. "You know how it is."

"Hm?" Trunks tilted his head. "What's that mean?"

"Well, I guess you've never lived in the dorms." She fingered the brass railings in the elevator. "This is a really nice building, by the way."

"Thanks."

"Do you have a roommate?"

"Yeah." Trunks nodded. "Oh, actually, it's Goten's older brother, Gohan."

"Oh, really?" She raised her eyebrows. "Why do you live with him and not Goten?"

"Goten's mom wouldn't let him move in. She's really strict."

"Ah." Kim nodded in understanding. "Well, do you guys get along at least?"

"What, me and Gohan?" Trunks rubbed the back of his neck. He didn't know why he suddenly felt self-conscious. Then it occurred to him that he didn't want to admit that Goten was really his only friend. "Oh yeah. We're super close. Like this." He crossed his middle finger with his index finger. "The best of friends, really!"

"Cool." She seemed not to notice his discomfort as they stepped out of the elevator. "So, anyway, you have a roommate. Don't you guys have some kind of signal in case you're in the apartment … you know…with somebody?" She lowered her voice as she said the last few words.

"Ohh," Trunks made a sound of understanding. "You mean if you're WITH with somebody." He smiled as he processed her meaning, then pulled the keys out of his pocket as they reached the apartment door.

"Yeah," she chuckled softly at his apparent naivete. "Well, Tiffany's my roommate, and she locked me out so she could be WITH with Goten."

Trunks' head shot up as he looked at her with wide eyes. For a split second he looked as if he didn't know what to say. Then he blinked a few times and turned back to the door. "That sucks," he said quietly.

"Yeah…" Kim agreed, wrapping her arms around herself as she watched him scowl at the lock while fiddling with it. She could swear the temperature in the hall had just dropped ten degrees.

"I'll be right back." Trunks entered the apartment and closed the door, leaving the girl outside. He went to the kitchen to put the bags of groceries in the refrigerator. Trying hard to stop his thoughts from drifting to mental images of Goten with his girlfriend, he swallowed the bitter taste at the back of his throat. It wasn't as if he harbored any illusions about the nature of Goten's relationship with Tiffany. But the way Kim had just dropped that piece of information out of the blue felt like a punch to the gut. He thought he might have been better off staying at Capsule Corp. and facing Vegeta.

The Saiyan prince stood up straight after closing the fridge, determined to shake it off. He was sure that Kim had picked up on his suddenly dark mood and he just needed a moment to regroup. None of it was Kim's fault, and it wasn't fair to take it out on her. She was only the messenger and she was, in a lesser way, another victim of the situation.

When he made his way back out to the hall, he tried to lighten the mood. "C'mon, we'll head back to Capsule Corp. and after I fix your watch, you can hang out for awhile if you want. Since I know you don't have anywhere else to go." He smiled in silent apology for his strange behavior a minute ago. "You get a free lunch courtesy of the Capsule kitchen if you're product's defective. I'm sure I read that in the return policy somewhere."

She smiled gratefully. "Sure! That sounds nice."

***

"Your father was here," Meena said without looking up as the two walked into Trunks' office suite a short time later. "He says the next time he sees you, you'll regret the day you were b--." She stopped suddenly as she glanced up from her computer screen. "Oh! And who might this be?"

"This is Kim," Trunks told her. "I'm just fixing her watch." He clarified immediately, hoping to quash the rumors before they got started. "So dad was mad, huh?"

"Oh, it's nothing that can't wait 'til later, dear," she said to Trunks. "You two don't mind me! I'll just order you some lunch!" She waved at them merrily until they disappeared into Trunks' office. "It was nice meeting you, dear!"

The Capsule heir closed the door behind him and leaned back against it, rolling his eyes. "What?" Kim asked him. "She seems very nice."

"She thinks we're on some kind of a date, I'm sure. They just love gossip around here." He made his way to the desk and leafed through some tiny instruments there. "By the time I've fixed your watch, half the building will think we've been 'WITH with' each other right here on my desk."

"Oh, gosh!" She clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Yeah, so you at least have to stay for a half hour or so. You know, make me look good." He winked.

Kim laughed. "If only Tiff and Goten got wind of a rumor like that! You know they want us to date?"

As he took a seat at his desk, Trunks wasn't sure what bothered him more. The fact that Goten was trying to set him up on a pity date, or the way the words "Tiff and Goten" rolled so easily off Kim's tongue. As if those two words actually belonged together.

"You know what? Can we just not talk about them?" He didn't want to be reminded for what felt like the millionth time of his own pathetic inability to move on, when it was so clear that his friend already had. Ignoring the lingering feelings had been working just fine until now, and that was the plan until future notice.

Kim watched the lavender-haired man stare at his computer screen and click across a few icons at random. He seemed to have become distracted and wasn't really paying attention to what he was doing. But she was starting to recognize a pattern in his behavior. The Capsule heir seemed so untouchable from afar; his every smile practiced, his every word calculated. There was no doubt that he relished having control over himself and those around him. And for the most part, he seemed to accomplish it flawlessly.

That is, until Goten's name came up. This was the second time in the last hour that he had visibly flustered and now she felt as though she saw the chink in his armor. So, he wasn't infallible after all.

Trunks continued to stare at the computer screen but he was aware of her gazing at him. Without meaning to, he addressed her coldly. "I'm sorry. You seem really nice and all but I'm just not—."

"Oh, no," she said, interrupting him with a wave of her hand, "you've gotten the wrong idea. I think it's stupid, too. I don't even like you like that."

But he didn't seem to be listening to her anymore. "Oh my god…." He was still looking at the computer monitor, but now seemed much more focused.

In his aimless clicking, he had inadvertently opened the Internet browser and his eyes now caught sight of a disturbing image. The Weston application he had been filling out was gone and, in place of the form that had been there before lunch, there was only a confirmation screen. Panicking, Trunks read the message aloud. "Thank you for your interest. Your application has been submitted. An admissions representative will contact you shortly."

He stared at the screen in disbelief, a cold feeling of dread settling in the pit of his stomach. He was positive that he had not submitted that application. He never would have done so; not with the things he had written. He slowly got up from the desk and made his way to the front office.

Meena looked up from her work. "Did you use my computer for some reason?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head in the negative, then noticed her boss was visibly pale. "Mr. Briefs, are you okay?" Without taking her eyes off him, she jumped up to get a cup of water for him from the nearby dispenser.

"Did anyone else go in my office while I was gone?"

"Well," she thought about it for a moment. "Mr. Son was in there just after you left. And your mother, she went in with him. Oh, and your father was in there, too. Right after your mother left."

"Was there a goddamn family reunion while I was away?" he yelled, then he ran both hands through his hair miserably, leaning against the door frame. "I'm so finished." Between the application fiasco and the disturbing Goten-related tidbits Kim kept dropping, he really didn't know how much more he could take in one afternoon.

Kim interrupted his thoughts. "Umm . . . should I go?"

He only shook his head held his hand out for the watch. After all, she had followed him halfway across the city in the hopes of getting it fixed. Plus it would provide a few minutes of distraction from what was quickly turning into an awful afternoon. Sitting back down at his desk, Trunks fiddled with the back of the gadget and popped the cover off to reveal the miniature instruments inside.

Kim watched his tongue slip through his lips and curl around the top one as he concentrated. Another thing she had noticed about him was that his moods, although they could change in a moment, evened out rather quickly; his outbursts not lasting more than a few minutes. When it seemed that he had sufficiently calmed down, she let her curiosity get the best of her.

"What happened with the computer before?" she asked carefully. "You said something about an application."

"Let's just say you won't have to worry about running into me anymore, literally or figuratively," he answered, without taking his eyes off his work. "I'm going to transfer to Weston in the spring. That is, if they'll even accept me now." He thought glumly of his ill-conceived essay answers while he moved the loose chip back into place. "My application somehow got submitted before I could … finish it." A second later, he fitted the back cover onto the watch and held the gadget out to Kim. "There you go. Good as new."

"Wow, thanks." She scrolled through the watch's functions and found everything to be in working order. "That was really nice of you," she said sincerely, looking up at Trunks. He smiled reservedly back at her, shrugging his shoulders and pushing his lilac bangs across his forehead.

"It was nothing."

He didn't seem like such a bad guy, she thought. She knew Tiffany didn't like him very much, but it was pretty clear now that they had personal issues with each other. Actually, she was pretty sure she knew what those personal issues were, and they were happening in her dorm room right this very second. She felt an unexpected swell of sympathy for the man in front of her.

"So, listen," she said cheerily, putting her hand on his knee in a sudden show of solidarity, "I'll tell you how to make a stir-fry out of all that stuff you bought at the store. And I promise you'll have your roommate eating out of the palm of your hand by the end of the night." She leaned down until her mischievous eyes met his. "Or wherever else you want him eating from."

***

When Gohan entered the apartment, he was already sure that something strange was going on. First of all, Trunks hadn't appeared in his office at the end of the day to try and drag him off to happy hour. And a moment ago, as he had stepped off the elevator, he was hit by the unmistakable smell of spices, frying chicken and vegetables. Now, as he stood in the doorway to his flat, he could see his roommate's form bent over the kitchen counter. He seemed absorbed by whatever he was doing and didn't react as Gohan closed the door behind him.

Loud music was pumping out of the state-of-the-art sound system the apartment boasted. Gohan remembered Trunks chatting to Goten incessantly the day they moved in about how great it would be for the outrageous housewarming party he planned to throw. But although that had never materialized, the teen seemed to be getting some good use out of the system now. He danced toward the stove, body moving fluidly in time with the beat.

Gohan had planned to question Trunks when he got home about skipping out on his father at lunch, but instead he couldn't suppress a smile at the sight that greeted him. He silently dropped his briefcase onto the couch and snuck up behind the distracted demi. "Guess who," he challenged, covering Trunks' eyes with his hands.

Trunks ceased stirring the pot he stood over for a moment and a smile spread across face. "Gohan!" Then he found his rhythm again and pushed back against his roommate, hips and shoulders moving alternately and the rest of his body following. Trunks reached behind him to hold Gohan's hips in place while he rocked his own back and forth expertly to the music.

Gohan watched his roommate move with snake-like grace against him and he wondered when the spunky little boy that he knew had become so... So...

Grown up.

"And where the hell did you learn to dance like that?" he asked softly at Trunks' ear.

"Dance clubs," the prince answered matter-of-factly. Then, spinning to face his roommate, he bent his knees and twisted his way down Gohan's body until he almost touched the floor. Hitting the tiles with his hand, he pushed himself back up, using the other man's tie for added leverage. "Hey, we should go sometime."

"So a bunch of strangers can molest me while calling it "dancing?' " Gohan made a face. "I don't think so!" He backed away from the stove, and Trunks, then reached up to loosen the knotted silk at his neck. He was suddenly feeling rather warm. "What kind of a song is this, anyway?" he asked, unable to ignore the risqué lyrics blaring from multiple speakers.

Trunks shrugged. "It's J.C. Chasez."

" 'All day long I dream about sex' ?!" Gohan repeated the words with a shocked look on his face.

Trunks laughed at his roommate. "You're such a prude, Gohan! And what does a perfect person like YOU think about all day?"

"Please," Gohan said, rolling his eyes. He was far from perfect.

"Oh, guess what," the teen turned back to the stove but glanced over his shoulder at his roommate. "I made a new friend today."

"Oh yeah?"

Trunks nodded proudly.

"So is that where you were running off to when I came to see you? I suppose you forgot all about your lunch date with Vegeta."

Avoiding Gohan's stare, the younger man kept his own eyes trained on the pot in his hands as he made his way to the dining room. He placed it carefully at the center of the table, whistling along with the song as if he hadn't heard the question. But Gohan persisted. "You know, he's going to kill you when he gets his hands on you. I really can't figure you out, pissing Vegeta off like that. I have to assume that you actually enjoy pain."

"Almost as much as you enjoy lecturing me." The younger demi straightened to face his roommate and put his hands on his hips. "How about, oh I don't know, 'Thank you, Trunks, for preparing this delicious dinner for us' or 'gee, Trunks, you look fan-fucking-tastic in an apron'? But no, all I get is 'where were you at lunch today, Trunks? Vegeta's gonna kill you, Trunks. Blah blah blah.' " He imitated Gohan's voice in a nagging tone, lifting his right hand and opening and closing his fingers as though it were Gohan's mouth moving.

God, the boy knew how to get under his skin! Gohan took a deep breath and fought down the urge to strangle him. But as his eyes swept the kitchen, he realized the prince had a point. There were grocery bags scattered all around and various sauces and spices adorned the countertop. The table was set for two, complete with stemware, candles, and a bottle of red wine. It was clear that his roommate had gone to quite a lot of trouble. Come to think of it, he had apparently incurred the wrath of Vegeta willingly just so he could set this up. Really, he wasn't out of line to expect a bit of thanks. "Thank you, Trunks, for what I'm sure will be a delicious dinner." Gohan visibly softened. "To what do I owe this grand gesture?"

"Well, I was having a bad day," Trunks began, "but instead of letting it get to me, and dwelling on the bad things that have happened to me lately - and there have been A LOT," he noted, "I decided to focus on what's good in my life right now." He picked up both glasses of wine and handed one to the other demi. "Like you," he finished, lifting his glass. "I really did mean what I said to your mother the other night."

Now Gohan understood. "This is much nicer than that suit," he said with sincerity, holding the younger boy's gaze. "So you do listen when I talk."

"Of course I do. I hang on every word you say."

It was a remark that Gohan would have taken as sarcastic except there was no artfulness to the other man's tone.

"What should we toast, Gohan?"

"Hmm. To the future," he offered optimistically, raising his glass along with Trunks. "In the hopes that we live long enough to see it after eating your cooking!"

***

A half hour later the two were stuffed to the brim and finishing up their second glasses of wine. "I meant to ask you," Trunks said, swirling his glass in his hand, "what were you doing on my computer today?"

Gohan wondered how Trunks knew that he had been in his office. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play coy with me, Gohan. You're a horrible liar. Now what were you doing at my desk?"

With a sigh, the other demi gave in. "Your mother wanted me to check up on your progress on the investor presentation," he admitted. "But you weren't supposed to know about it."

"Why?" he sounded dejected.

"Well, it's just, you know, your first big project and all… It's only natural--." Gohan was cut off by the sound of his cell phone ringing.

"She said she trusted me," Trunks lamented, resting his chin in his palm with a pout.

"I'm sorry, I'm going to have to take this," Gohan said, looking at the display. "It's Goten." He flipped the phone open. "This better be good, little bro. You're interrupting the best meal I've had in weeks!" He shot Trunks an encouraging smile, hoping to lift the younger boy's spirits a bit. But Gohan's cheerful demeanor dissipated as he listened to his brother's rapid speech. "What? Wait, Goten, slow down."

Trunks looked up at him. He could hear his old friend's frantic voice coming through the phone but he couldn't make out any of the words. "Alright," Gohan said calmly. "Listen, I'll be--." He stopped talking as he was apparently cut off. "Goten--." Trunks heard the younger Son continue to spew out rushed sentences. "GOTEN," his roommate repeated more sternly and the rapid speech at the other end of the line finally stopped. "Just tell her to calm down. I'm on my way right now."

With that, he clicked the phone shut. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure. It was hard to get anything coherent out of him. He's upset and says mom's freaking out. You know Goten; he's really not good at dealing with her when she's like that. But I'm sure it has something to do with you-know-who."

"The ex-wife from hell?"

"Bingo." He looked apologetically at Trunks as he stood up. "I'm afraid I've got to go out there."

The teen stood, too. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"Don't worry about it. I've got this one." He got up from the table, but stopped and turned abruptly, putting one hand behind his head. "Just so you know, tonight was really nice." Then he made a face at how lame that sounded. "I mean, y'know, it was cool. The food was really good and . . . the company--."

Trunks' eyes sparkled with genuine amusement. "For fuck's sake, you'd think I was a girl for all your blubbering." He nudged Gohan away from the table. "Go. I understand. They're your family and they need you."

Gohan nodded solemnly then disappeared down the hallway towards Trunks' room. The fastest way to get to Mt. Paozu would be to fly and the balcony faced away from the street, making it a good place to take off. He slid open the newly repaired door.

After the events of the previous Friday, Gohan had called a repairman himself and told the guy that money was no object if he could get the job done same-day. Trunks had been back in his own room by Saturday night. Gohan thought the teen would be pissed that he had essentially been kicked out, but surprisingly he hadn't made too much of a fuss. And for the last week things had been going really well. So well, in fact, that Gohan realized he actually regretted being called home tonight.

He found himself thinking it would have been fun to spend the evening with his roommate. As irritating as Trunks could occasionally be, he could also be compassionate, witty, and charming. And as much as the prince drove him crazy sometimes, at least he was never boring. In general, things just seemed a little more exciting when he was around. And Gohan had to confess he could use a little excitement in his life.

He sped up as he flew towards his old house. If he could get things straightened out there quickly enough, maybe he could make it back in time to pick up where they'd left off.


	10. Chapter 10

BORDEMRULES and ILOVETHISSTORY - Thanks so much for your enthusiastic reviews :) Are you the same person? If so, then I'm glad you went from liking it to love love loving it ;-) Enjoy.

Author's Note:

This story has been illustrated! You can view the picture at the Boxer and Rice website. Unfortunately this site won't let me post the link. But the pic is called "Sleeper Hold in the Gravity Room." I'm really ecstatic about it and the picture is fabulous. If you like this story, please check it out and leave comments for the artist.

**Chapter 10**

Gohan landed at the lake near his family's home and waited for Goten to come out and meet him. He knew his younger brother would come to the place where he last felt Gohan's energy signature and, sure enough, Goten appeared on the nearby hill a moment later. "Gohan, thank god you're here," he said breathlessly, jogging down the slope.

"Explain to me again what exactly is going on," Gohan requested, wanting a better idea of what he was getting into before entering the fray.

"Well, a couple of hours ago, Mom saw a moving van pull up at your house. I mean, your old house," he corrected himself, the words spilling out rapidly. "And at first she thought that Videl was just getting rid of some more of your things. But then the moving men started bringing boxes into the house. So Mom thought maybe Videl had bought some new furniture or something but…." He looked up at Gohan apologetically. "But tonight when she went over to invite Videl to dinner – I don't know why she bothers but she always does – some guy answered the door and Videl said he's her boyfriend and he lives there now and we should get used to it."

"I see." Gohan pushed down the inevitable feelings of insecurity that sprung up at those words. It seemed he was finally going to meet the mystery man that was so much better than him. The one Videl had chosen over him. But he didn't allow himself to dwell on it. Somewhere deep down, part of him had been preparing for this moment since the day that they had split. But he could only guess how this new turn of events would have affected his mother.

"Where's Dad?" he asked Goten, wishing he could recruit his father for help. If there was one person who knew how to calm their mother, it was Goku. But he already knew his father wasn't there. If he had been, then Goten wouldn't have been the one Chichi had turned to.

"He's gone. What do you think?" Goten asked, an edge to his voice.

"What do you mean gone?"

"Don't ask me!" Gohan winced at the agitation of his brother's tone. "He's wherever the hell he goes when he's not here. The Lookout? Otherworld? Fuck knows. Probably found some new stupid kid to train."

Goten crossed his arms over his chest and scowled into the distance. The elder Son hated to hear his brother talk about their father that way, but he had long ago stopped trying to reason with Goten on the issue. Goku had come back from Otherworld and met Goten for the first time ten years ago, shortly before Gohan and Videl had married. After Gohan moved out of the family home, he knew his brother tried to accept Goku as the father he never had, but it was clear that, in Goten's mind, Gohan still occupied that role to a larger extent than his real father did.

As Goten matured into a teenager, he started to ask more questions about where their dad had been for the first eight years of his life and why he had to go away. But he didn't seem to accept his mother's or brother's answer that it was for the good of the earth. All Gohan could do was watch from a distance as his brother grew more critical of their father and resentful of his decisions regarding his family. The final straw came when Goten was fifteen and Goku left, again, to train with Uub. After that, Goten seemed to write the man off entirely. Although he'd never said it outright to Gohan, it was clear that he felt bitter and slighted.

In many ways, Gohan couldn't really blame him. Goten and Goku had never shared the relationship that Gohan and Goku did. And it was maybe only because of that early relationship they had forged that Gohan didn't share more of his brother's sentiments. As he looked at his little brother he had to wonder what messed up a child more: losing a father too early, or gaining one too late.

"C'mon," he said, squeezing Goten's shoulder and nudging him in the direction of home. The two demis made their way silently back to the house, where Chichi was waiting for them outside.

"Oh, Gohan!" she cried when they came into view, and he could see that his mother's face was streaked with tears. "That horrible girl, she's trying to kill me, I swear it."

Gohan noticed that Chichi looked tired, and very old. The sight was unsettling to him and he attempted to reassure her. "Mom, it's nothing to get upset about, okay? I'll deal with it."

"But Gohan, she's living in YOUR house." Chichi clarified the situation. "With another MAN!" she added, just in case Gohan had failed to grasp the magnitude of the tragedy.

Her firstborn son grimaced. It had been difficult enough to deal with his wife's infidelity privately, but now he felt as though he was being humiliated in front of his entire family. Videl was really making a mockery of him and his mother knew just how to point it out in the most painful possible way. Still, he tried to maintain his patience with her.

"Yeah, Mom, I know."

He also couldn't help but feel that he should have put an end to Videl's reign of terror before it had even begun. He should have been more stern during the divorce about getting sole ownership of the house. He should have bought out her half of the equity and seen her promptly off to a new and preferably faraway location. But at the time he didn't see any reason to be a hardass about it. He never thought Videl would resort to such antics as these. But now that she had, he felt completely responsible for exposing his mother and brother to this.

"Oh, it's all such a nightmare. I just want to know when it will end." Chichi sounded defeated. Then she turned away from her oldest son to wrap her arms around her youngest. "Goten, you're my only hope now," she sobbed. "I know you and Tiffany won't do this to me when you're married! You two would never put me through this, would you, dear?"

"Ah!" Goten gasped. "Get off of me!" He shrugged out of his mother's grasp. It was true that he had enjoyed bathing in the limelight of her good graces for the past few weeks, but he sure as hell wasn't ready to hear statements like that. He wasn't sure if he ever would be ready. "I'm not getting married, Mom!"

"Well, that's ridiculous, Goten, of course you'll get married," Chichi insisted. "I mean maybe not this year, I suppose. But when a boy gets to be your age, he—."

"Why would I want to get married? So I can end up like Gohan? Alone and miserable after devoting ten years of my life to someone?"

"Um, Goten, I'm right here," Gohan reminded him, hoping his brother would save any further insults for a time when he wouldn't be present to hear them.

"And it's not like you and dad make it look all that great," the younger boy added pointedly, leaving their mother looking speechless. "I don't want to get married! Not now, and maybe not ever!"

A fresh well of tears sprang from her eyes. "Goten, don't talk like that! I'm dealing with enough without you talking all crazy."

"Yeah, seriously, not now," Gohan begged his brother.

"But Gohan, she's been talking like this all day! And I can't deal with it, I really can't," he said, putting his palms up in front of him to push away the imaginary walls that were closing in. "I've gotta get out of here." Backing away from the two of them, he turned and his eyes scanned the horizon. "I'm going . . . I'm going to . . . ."

Goten stared at the hills, confused, as Gohan watched him closely. The elder Son knew what his brother wanted to say. That sentence had ended the same way for the last ten years.

Life with their family seemed more difficult for Goten than it was for Gohan. Although Gohan often felt stressed growing up, torn between his mother's dream that he be a scholar and his father's dream that he be a warrior, he seemed somehow better equipped to handle it than his younger brother. He had made it through adolescence and into adulthood relatively unscathed, maintaining what he thought was a good balance between the two.

But Goten often seemed overwhelmed by the paradoxes that Gohan had simply learned to accept. And, unlike Gohan, who had always endeavored to please both of his parents, Goten had ceased trying to please either one of them. He didn't like training with Goku and avoided it as often as possible. He got mediocre grades and seemed unwilling or unable to live up to Chichi's scholastic standards. And now it seemed he was also unwilling to live up to her domestic hopes for him.

But over the years, whenever things were too much for him, he would leave and go to Capsule, always. To Trunks, everytime. Now, Gohan could tell, he wasn't sure what to do.

In the last few weeks, there had been many times when Gohan had pitied Goten. Ever since Trunks had unleashed his unadulterated self on Gohan, the older demi began to appreciate just how much of the prince's single-minded focus his brother had fielded over the years. It seemed that Goten had been the buffer between Trunks and the rest of the world, and Gohan couldn't help but wonder how he'd absorbed the intensity of the other demi all these years. But now he saw that Goten put just as much on Trunks as Trunks probably put on him.

For as much as Trunks controlled him, Goten needed the older boy's strength, his resilience, his unwavering sense of self. When Goten had questions, Trunks always had answers, even if they weren't the right ones. And whenever Goten wanted to fall, Trunks provided the fortitude he knew Goten needed. The demi-Saiyan prince had accepted everything about him in a way Goten must have felt his parents never did. Trunks had even loved him, despite his multitude of imperfections. And without that beacon, the younger Son seemed lost.

Gohan spoke up, his heart heavy with the weight of new insight. "Goten, listen." His voice gave his brother something concrete to focus on. "Go inside. Go up to your room and wait there for me, okay? I'll come up once everything is straightened out."

Goten looked at him for a moment then shook his head affirmatively. "Okay," he nodded. "Okay."

"Go, now, Goten." The elder Son watched his brother disappear into the house. Then he turned to his mother. "Mom, you get in the car and go straight to Capsule. I'll call Bulma and tell her to be expecting you."

"You're right, Gohan," she sighed. "This isn't good for my nerves."

He helped his mother into the red hovercar that he had bought for her several years before and set the autopilot feature to Capsule HQ. As soon as the car departed, he texted Bulma, asking her to put his mother up for the night. A second later, he received her affirmative response. Gohan silently thanked Dende for Bulma and remembered why he had agreed to take care of Trunks for her in the first place. He added a silent promise not to complain about it anymore.

Okay, he thought, turning towards his old marital home, two problems down and one to go.

Gohan walked into his old yard and approached the door. He hated the way he felt like a stranger here, even though he had grown up in this yard; the way he felt the need to knock on the front door, even after all the times he and Goten had pried it open as kids to look through their late grandfather's belongings. Once they had found an old cooking pot among the rusty antiques and he managed to convince Goten that it had magical powers. Chichi had to cook all their vegetables in that pot for years, because it was the only way they could get Goten to eat them.

He tried the front door knob, but it didn't budge. Three generations of Sons had called this place home, and he resented being made to feel unwelcome now. Anger boiling to the surface, Gohan decided that he had taken the diplomatic route one too many times. He effortlessly kicked the door open with one quick movement.

Videl looked up, startled, from whatever dish she was preparing on the stove. "Gohan! Just what do you think you're doing?!"

He regarded her for a moment, then reigned in his emotions. As angry as he was with Videl, she was still only human; exponentially weaker than him; and as evil as she sometimes seemed, she was essentially defenseless. He had never let his anger get the best of him when dealing with her and he didn't think it would be a good idea to start now. Although he wasn't sure he could say the same for whoever she had taken up with. Part of him was itching for a fight and only needed a worthy opponent.

Just then, a voice echoed from upstairs. "Videl, honey, what in the world was that?"

Gohan looked at the stairs, which hugged the wall opposite from where he was standing. He was ready to face his competition, and he was sure he looked quite dangerous as he glared at the landing. But nothing could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him.

"Sharpener?!?" he cried, as the blond appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Oh—!" his old classmate looked shocked. Shocked and rather terrified. "Uh, Gohan, I—."

The dark haired demi looked back at his ex-wife. "Really?" he asked, the disbelief evident in his voice. "This guy!?" Videl had her chance with Sharpener plenty of times when they were teenagers. Yet she had chosen to marry Gohan. He wondered what would ever make her revisit that decision and, as he stared up at the man on the stairs, he couldn't help the obvious question from tumbling out of his mouth. "What's he got that I don't have?"

"Gohan, it's not like that," Videl said, her voice much softer than before. She took a deep breath. "Would you give us a minute?" she looked at the blond.

"Sure—sure," he stuttered, retreating back up the stairs. Before disappearing, he glanced one last time at his old classmate. "I'm . . . sorry, Gohan."

"Do you want to sit down?" Videl offered, stepping towards the couch in their old living room.

But he didn't hear her. Now the demi-Saiyan couldn't help but wonder how long his wife must have regretted her decision in choosing him; how long she had loved this other man. He couldn't keep the idea out of his head that maybe it was Sharpener she wanted from the beginning. "How long?" was all he said.

Gohan's heart dropped when he saw Videl start to blink back tears. It couldn't mean anything good.

"Think about it, Gohan," she said, stepping forward to take his hand. He looked down at her fingers as though the feeling of her touch was completely alien, and she quickly let go. Realizing she had no right to touch him with familiarity, much less intimacy, she took a breath and started again.

"You caught my eye back in high school, you know that. I was completely taken with you from the first day you started at Orange Star." She turned and began pacing the room, trying to find words for the feelings she had struggled with for years. "I was a headstrong girl, and it took me a while to admit how much I liked you. Then, before I even fully realized it myself, we got caught up in this struggle for salvation. This horrible battle. Babidi and Buu…. I mean, I thought you were dead!"

She stopped for a moment to compose herself. "And when I found out you had survived, I—. I was so happy to see you again that I thought—. Well, I thought I was in love. But I wonder how much of it was only a combination of the fear, the attraction, the adrenaline. And when those things wore off, well . . . ." She glanced at the stairs.

Sharpener.

By the time she looked back at him, the tears had spilled from her violet eyes and down her cheeks. "It wasn't anything you did wrong, Gohan." She knew him well enough to know that he would have blamed himself all along for the failure of their marriage. "There was nothing you did to make me feel this way, and nothing you could have done to avoid it. The heart wants what it wants."

Gohan supposed her words should have made him feel better but they didn't quite have that effect. So, it was nothing he had done. It was nothing he had failed to do. It wasn't his fault. She simply didn't love him. She hadn't from the very beginning.

No. No, it didn't make him feel better at all.

"In fact, you're such a good person that I couldn't bear to say it to your face." She looked at the ground. "It was easier for me to just go behind your back. I should have told you when it first started but … I just didn't have the heart."

"No, you really don't have one at all," he said, choosing to speak finally. Gohan no longer wanted to know how long it had been going on. Much like his mother, he just wanted the nightmare at last to be over. He ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts moving from himself back to Chichi and Goten. Whatever happened between him and Videl was in the past. His family shouldn't have to pay for it now.

"I want the two of you out of here tomorrow. Your father owns half the buildings in Satan City. I'm sure one of them has an empty loft." Violet eyes flashed in protest before dimming in acquiescence. He was right and she knew it. "I'm not sure why you didn't just do that from the beginning," Gohan admitted.

Videl shrugged. "You know, I suppose I had become so accustomed to hurting you that I just—." She stopped herself. Finishing that sentence made her sound so awful, she couldn't bring herself to do it.

Exhausted, Gohan turned towards the door and reached for the knob, which was now loose as a result of his earlier outburst. "But, Gohan!" she said, stopping the tired-looking man in his tracks. "How am I going to move out of here by tomorrow? There's ten years worth of stuff in this house. It'll take at least a week to get it all packed and loaded."

That wasn't an option he was willing to consider. "Look, just get the moving trucks here tomorrow and . . . ." There was only one plan he could think of. "Me and Trunks will come over in the afternoon and help you get it all out."

"Okay," she said softly, knowing she didn't deserve such kind treatment. But she knew he wasn't doing it for her.

Gohan opened the door then closed it behind him without looking back. He crossed the yard, entered his parents' home, and bounded up the stairs to his brother's room. After knocking softly, he opened the door to find the younger boy curled up on the bed. He approached the smaller Saiyan and heard the soft sounds of breathing. Goten had fallen asleep.

Approaching the bed, he pulled some discarded blankets from the floor and draped them over his brother, whose eyelids fluttered. "Gohan?" he asked sleepily.

"Yeah, it's me." Gohan sat down on the edge of the bed. "Everything's okay, Goten. We talked it out and she's going to leave. Things will be back to normal around here soon."

For a second, Gohan really hoped his little brother would wake up. It seemed there were so many things they needed to talk about. He suddenly felt that while he had been working his tail off to save a marriage that was doomed from the start, Goten had grown up right under his nose. Now their mom was pressuring him about marriage and Gohan really didn't want to see things turn out for his brother the way they had turned out for him. Plus, he was sure that Trunks' advances must have confused the younger boy and it was clear that the loss of their friendship had affected him. Seeing how much Goten had relied on Trunks in the past, and how he could no longer do so, Gohan could only imagine how much his brother needed him now. He also realized that, truthfully, he still thought of both Goten and Trunks as kids. But they weren't; not by a long shot. They had grown up and damned if they didn't have issues out the wazoo.

He put one hand on Goten's arm but his brother's even breathing told him he was already sleeping again. "Shit," Gohan swore quietly. He rested his head in his hands and tried to massage away the tension building behind his eyes. After a moment, he stood up and left the room, then exited the house and took to the sky.

As he headed in the direction of West City, though, he realized he didn't want to go back to the apartment. Earlier he had hoped to get back home quickly and enjoy the rest of the evening with his roommate. But although he'd been having a good time at dinner before he left, he never knew what mood he would find Trunks in or what stunts the teen might be planning to pull. And as much as Goten dealt with things by dumping them on other people, Gohan preferred to deal with them by himself; to see if he could channel whatever he was feeling into a more positive force. He supposed maybe that was Piccolo's influence on him. Either way, right now he just needed to be alone.

***

Trunks walked out of his room, freshly showered, wearing a pair of running pants and a t-shirt. After Gohan left, he busied himself for as long as he could with cleaning up dinner. Then he had taken a shower to kill some more time. Now he stood in the silent, empty living room at 8:00 on a Friday night.

"When did I become such a loser?" he wondered aloud, tousling his own wet hair. Then he picked up the T.V. Guide and headed to the kitchen to pop a bag of microwave popcorn. Trunks thought that a guy like himself should have a whole phone book of people to call, friends clamoring to come over and keep him company. But when he took his cell phone out of his pocket, there were no missed calls, no messages, no love of any kind.

After hearing how upset Goten had sounded on the other end of the line when he was talking to Gohan, Trunks thought that maybe his old friend would call him tonight. Goten always came to him when he was upset, and Trunks already knew that if Goten needed him, he would put everything that had happened between them in the last few weeks aside. He wanted to be there for Goten. He wanted the chance just to talk to him again. But he wouldn't make the call himself. Not after the way the other boy had ignored him the last time they'd seen each other. Trunks had wanted to apologize, but Goten didn't seem to want to hear it. And the ball was in his court now.

The microwave dinged indicating his snack was ready and he took the bag of popcorn and his cell phone into the living room and turned on the T.V. An hour later, he was just beginning to drift off to sleep on the couch when he felt Gohan's energy signal approaching the city. Trunks sat up abruptly, knocking the nearly empty bag of popcorn to the ground. He turned off the T.V. and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Gohan would be there any minute, and he really wanted to hear what had happened at Mount Paozu. Getting up off the couch, he started back the hallway toward his room, planning to meet his roommate at the balcony door.

But then he realized he couldn't feel the other demi anymore. A moment ago he had been on the outskirts of the city, Trunks was sure of it, but now he couldn't sense Gohan's energy at all. That could only mean he must have landed. And Trunks knew the only reason Gohan would have chosen to walk instead of fly was if he didn't want anyone to know where he was. And if he wanted to be alone, then there was a good chance that things did not go well at Mount Paozu.

Trunks went back to the living room and sat down on the couch again. He chewed his bottom lip wondering whether he should wait for Gohan to come home. But a minute later he darted into his room and discarded his running pants for a pair of blue jeans and traded his t-shirt for a cream-colored turtleneck. Then, grabbing his coat and shoes, he headed for the door.

Even if Gohan thought being alone was the best thing for him, Trunks knew better. He never really understood how painful 'alone' could be until the night Goten had left. He only realized after the fact how lucky he had been that Gohan was there; that he had witnessed the scene between the two boys and offered his friendship and understanding. Now Gohan would need the same thing, whether he admitted it to himself or not.

A light rain had begun to fall by the time Trunks exited the building on foot. If Gohan was within the city limits, there was only one other place he would have gone and Trunks broke into a run as he headed towards Capsule Corp. He realized he was getting more and more impatient with every passing city block. He knew Gohan wasn't the type to go over the top the way he himself might have, but he couldn't shake the general feeling of uneasiness overtaking him.

He had made light of Gohan's situation earlier that day, wanting only to distract his mother from her tirade when he brought up Videl's bad behavior. But now the seriousness of the situation began to impress itself upon him. Trunks remembered the way he had reacted when Kim dropped unexpected information about Goten's sexual escapades and he could only imagine how similar information about Videl might affect Gohan. Sure Goten was Trunks' best friend since forever, but he had to admit they didn't enjoy any exclusive status. At least not one that they had ever talked about. And while they had a longstanding sexual relationship, it was nothing compared to a marriage, he supposed. So if he had felt hurt and betrayed when his best friend had kissed a coed, then it would be difficult to fathom how Gohan might feel at this moment.

The night watchman stood up as Trunks entered the deserted lobby of the corporate headquarters. "Sir," he greeted Trunks, hurriedly putting down a book he had been reading.

"Is Son Gohan here?"

"Uh, yes, he is. Burning the midnight oil again." He watched the Capsule heir dash across the tiles toward the elevators.

Trunks stepped into an open lift and pushed the button for Gohan's floor several times. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," he repeated as the doors slowly closed. But by the time he stepped into the hallway of the bioengineering floor a few moments later, he was already wondering if he had done the right thing in coming here. Trunks hated being alone, but he could tell that Gohan really needed his personal space. And as much as the teen sometimes enjoyed invading those boundaries, he had no such antagonistic desires tonight. But he was here now, and he wouldn't leave without at least making sure his friend was okay.

He made his way towards the lab where he could see that the lights were on. As he entered, he was amazed to see Gohan seemingly immersed in a pile of reports that had accumulated on his desk. The young prince had worked up such a doomsday scenario in his mind on his way to Capsule, that he couldn't believe Gohan was only doing some paperwork.

"Trunks?" Gohan looked up at his dripping wet roommate. "What are you doing here?"

The teen suddenly wasn't sure what to say. Maybe he had characteristically overreacted. "Uh, are you okay?" he asked the other man.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Gohan looked his roommate over and noticed his face was wet and his damp hair stuck to his forehead and cheeks. "Trunks, you're soaking wet. You've gotta be freezing."

The teen looked down at his jacket. The arms and shoulders along with most of the front of it were a dark grey where it had been saturated with raindrops. He scattered the water from his hair with his fingers and approached Gohan. "Will you stop worrying about me? I'm here because I'm worried about you. What happened out there?"

"Oh," Gohan looked away from him and out one of the large windows that lined a nearby wall. "It's nothing you want to hear about," he concluded. Then he closed the file folder he had been poring over. "Why don't we just go home?" He realized he wasn't going to get the solitude he wanted at Capsule Corp., and if Trunks was going to bother him either way, they might as well just go back to the apartment.

Gohan stood up and, folding his jacket over his arm, made his way towards the door. But Trunks only stood there blocking the path.

"Gohan," he said cautiously, his blue eyes searching the other man's face. "You do know there are some things you can't meditate your way through." It was more of a statement than a question, but Trunks really wondered if Gohan knew how to deal with things any other way. He still didn't know if he was right in his assumptions about what had happened at the Son home, but the panic that reflected momentarily in Gohan's normally calm coal-colored eyes helped to confirm his suspicions. "Piccolo was a great teacher, but he doesn't understand love. Not the way we do."

The other demi didn't answer, but it was clear he was processing what Trunks was saying. And by the look on his face, the teen knew he had been right. Gohan wasn't able to deal with this on his own. "You did love her, didn't you?"

Gohan sighed. "With everything I had." Trunks thought he could almost see the cracks forming in that invisible barrier that Gohan put up between himself and the rest of the world. But strangely enough, he didn't revel in the breaking of the dam the way he thought that he would. Gohan was only a foot in front of him and he put a hand on the other man's shoulder.

"You once told me that you were here for me, Gohan. And I held on to you when I felt like I was going to drown." He paused for a moment, the wet rivulets that were dripping from his hair onto his cheeks reminding him of the rivers of tears that had been shed that night. The memory was still all too clear in his mind. "Now, let me be here for you."

Gohan looked at him as though trying to decide what to do. He seemed skeptical, and Trunks realized he had given the other demi every reason to be wary. "Just as a friend, Gohan," he promised, and Gohan let himself be pulled into his roommate's embrace. "I'm sorry for making you feel uncomfortable around me," Trunks said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "I'm sorry for pushing you all the time." The teen's heart pounded as the weight of the last few weeks suddenly seemed real again. There were mistakes that he had made with Goten that he didn't want to make again. He couldn't bear to lose another friend.

Finally, Gohan wrapped his arms around the demi-Saiyan prince. He let the younger man bear some of his weight as he leaned on him. "She . . . it's . . . complicated."

He didn't seem to know where to begin and Trunks didn't move or question him any further. After a while, he lifted his head from Gohan's shoulder. "Let's go somewhere we can sit down," he suggested. "And where there's not . . . ." He nodded to the motion activated cameras that lined the interior and exterior of the building. They were all broadcasting onto tiny screens and the night watchman was no doubt peering at them at this very minute.

Gohan nodded, then extracted himself from his roommate's arms and straightened his shirt. The two made their way into the elevators then exited to cross the lobby, where a maintenance worker was already mopping up the wet footprints Trunks had left. They ignored the curious glances of the security guard and walked back out into the rainy night.

Trunks spotted a coffee shop across the street. It looked warm and inviting with white lights lining all the windows. He steered Gohan in that direction and the two of them jogged towards it, eager to get back indoors again. The cafe was small and crowded but there were a few tables open. They ordered two cappuccinos and then sat down in a quiet corner near large windows that faced the street.

Gohan didn't seem eager to start the story and they'd finished half their drinks before he spoke. Trunks listened silently as he related the whole tale from the time he landed at the lake until the time he left his mother's house. "Unbelievable," the prince breathed when Gohan was done. "So I know you don't know how long it's been going on, but I have to ask . . . . How DID you finally find out she was seeing someone else?"

Gohan crinkled his nose. "Well, you know how we Saiyans are blessed with that great sense of smell and all. I'm sure you're aware by now that some bodily fluids have pretty distinctive odors."

"Oh, god, not that." Trunks didn't really know what a girl smelled like, but he knew that semen had a strong scent. Humans could even smell it, at least before it dried. Saiyans could smell it even after.

"Yeah," Gohan affirmed. "That. And I knew it wasn't mine, so . . . ya know." He gestured absently. "But after the first time, I still said we should try to work it out. It wasn't until the third time that I filed for divorce."

"Do you think she did it on purpose? She must have known that you would know."

"Probably. I think she actually wanted me to leave." Gohan laughed bitterly. "And I just kept insisting we could work it out. I feel like such an idiot now."

"You were just trying to be a good partner. One who actually cared about his marriage. I'm so sorry, Gohan."

"I'm just glad it'll all be over soon," the other man said, taking a sip of hot coffee. He relaxed a bit as the warm feeling from the drink spread through his body. "I doubt my mom will be trying to get us back together any more after tonight." He smiled faintly at his coffee cup.

"Yeah, no kidding," Trunks agreed. But that lopsided grin of Gohan's didn't hide anything. His pain and insecurity were written all over his face. "It's her loss, Gohan. Let her make someone else miserable for awhile. You've done your time."

The dark-haired demi looked up at his roommate. He was grateful to Trunks for his understanding, but he knew it would be a long time before he could let the misery go. "Oh, um, one other thing. I did sort of promise her that you and I would help her move tomorrow."

"You did WHAT?!" Trunks' mouth dropped open. "Are you insane? I'm not lifting a finger for that woman."

"It's not that I want to do her any favors. But if she has to do it herself, it'll take too long and I can't put my mom and Goten through another week of this." He stirred his coffee and stared into the glass. "I understand if you don't want to come."

"No, I'll go," the prince relented after a minute. "But I just don't get it. You're so worried about your mom and your brother. Shouldn't they be the ones comforting you? Shouldn't they be strong for you and not the other way around? They really don't think about anyone but themselves!" Trunks was starting to get angry and he stopped abruptly before he said something Gohan might think was disrespectful. He also realized that he had been guilty of that same crime on many occasions.

Gohan only shrugged. "It's not their fault. They're just--."

"High strung? Self-centered? Oblivious to your suffering?" The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Gohan cracked another smile and shook his head in the negative, but didn't otherwise contradict Trunks' observations. "Whatever they are, I love them just the same. And I can't stand seeing them unhappy."

"Wow. You're a better man than I am, Gohan." The teen was already adding this little incident to the list of reasons why Goten was a thoughtless and self-absorbed jerk. "But do you know what I think?"

"I'm afraid to ask," Gohan said, standing up. He took his wallet from his back pocket and threw a ten zeni note onto the table. "But I'm sure you'll tell me anyway."

Trunks got up from the table and stood nearly eye to eye with his roommate. "I think you worry so much about them because you don't want to have to think about yourself. You say that I must like pain, but look at you. It's almost as if you enjoy being miserable. Always focusing on others while your own needs go unmet." Moving still closer, Trunks cocked his head to the side, and Gohan could feel the intensity of his cerulean gaze as surely as he could feel Trunks' breath on his face. "Tell me, Gohan," he almost whispered, "what is it that YOU want? Or don't you even know?"

Gohan felt his pulse quicken, much to his vexation. He really didn't appreciate Trunks asking him these questions. When he thought about what he wanted, well, that came with all sorts of questions that he didn't know how to answer. Did he want love? Domesticity? What about work and professional accolades? Were they really important to him? Or would he rather be a hero like his dad? Human or Saiyan? Studying or sparring? Man or super-man? And all of the choices, in some way, were nothing more than the projections of other peoples' ideals.

And what about Trunks? Gohan thought the younger man hadn't been entirely wrong when he accused Gohan of keeping his emotions locked away in a box. But why did Trunks seem so intent on opening that box, and how long could Gohan last under the scrutiny?

He met the prince's stare without backing away and he heard Trunks' breath catch when his own mouth brushed that royal cheekbone. "What I really want, Trunks," he whispered into the other's hair, "is just to go to sleep."

***

When Goten awoke, the Son house was dark and quiet. He rubbed his eyes and sat up in bed. The last thing he had heard before he fell asleep was Gohan saying that everything was okay. Pushing himself off the bed, he made his way over to the window and opened it. When he leaned out, he could see that both Videl's car and the new guy's car were still parked in front of Gohan's old house. He furrowed his brow unhappily. Goten trusted his brother if he said everything was fine, but if Videl and that other guy were still here, then he didn't want to be. He fished his cell phone out of his pocket and called the only person he could think of.

Tiffany didn't answer the first time, so Goten hung up and called again. "Hey, can I come over?" he asked, when he heard her groggy voice on the other end of the line.

"What, right now?" She fumbled to find her watch on the nightstand, causing the faint sounds of rustling to echo through the receiver. "Goten, it's three in the morning."

"I know but I don't really wanna be alone right now."

"Ughh, fine," she groaned. "I'll prop open our door, but I'm going back to sleep."

"'Kay." Goten frowned as he hung up the phone. Trunks never cared what time he called. Trunks would get up in the middle of the night and meet him at their favorite diner in the city. Trunks would crack a few jokes and he wouldn't give up until he had coaxed a reluctant smile out of his despondent friend. Then they would blow off school together and sleep late in his room at Capsule. Bulma would scold them if she caught them, but the lecture always ended with her remembering that she blew off classes all the time back in high school, and noting that she hadn't turned out so bad.

Those were the days, Goten thought. He opened his phone again and ran his fingers over the shiny silver buttons. It was at least the tenth time that week that he thought about dialing his old friend's number, but he simply couldn't do it. He was sure the other demi didn't want to hear from him, and he couldn't handle another fight tonight. Anything nasty that the hostile prince might say would surely destroy his already fragile morale.

Instead, Goten closed his phone, slipped out the open window and headed towards campus.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The next morning, Gohan crouched in the living room lacing his sneakers. He wore a long sleeved t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. He had indeed gone straight to sleep when he and Trunks got home the night before and he woke up feeling more energetic if no less depressed. It was a sunny Saturday morning, though, and he decided not to wallow in self pity.

The sleepy Saiyan prince appeared in the hallway to his bedroom just then, wearing grey boxer shorts and rubbing his eyes. "Where are you going?"

"Just out for a jog." Gohan looked him over. "You're up early."

"Yeah well, I was in bed by ten, no thanks to you," he noted. Then Trunks ran one hand down his stomach and pinched the skin there, pouting. "Wait for me. I'll get dressed and come with you."

"Uh, okay," Gohan said, surprised, as he watched his roommate walk back down the hall. Normally it took extreme measures to get Trunks out of bed in the morning, not to mention getting him to do anything productive.

"I'm going to get fat," he yelled in explanation from the bedroom. "All I do anymore is sit on my ass on that couch." He grabbed the running pants he had been wearing the night before and a clean white tank.

"I really doubt that," Gohan said as the teen reappeared, hopping down the hall on one foot as he pulled on his pants. He had just been standing there nearly naked and Gohan thought he looked as fit as ever, despite his lax workout routine.

"Look, do you want a running partner or not?"

"Sure, chubby, let's go."

A few minutes later, their feet hit the pavement in time as they jogged steadily towards the park in a nearby part of the city. There were trails there that would give them at least a few miles of warm-up exercise. Then, Gohan had said, they would follow the river north where it ran around the perimeter of the city before turning south and heading for home.

"When will we go out to Mount Paozu?" Trunks inquired after they had been running for some time. He was hesitant to bring up the topic because things seemed so different in the light of day, after a full night's sleep. It gave him the feeling that the previous night's events had never happened. But, of course, they had and the two roommates would have to deal with the consequences today.

"I guess after our run."

"Okay." At the thought of going out to the Son property, Trunks couldn't help but wonder about Goten. Would he be there? How would he react to Trunks being there? Would they get a chance to talk? The last time he and Gohan had gone out to the country, Trunks had been relieved to hear that Goten wouldn't be around. But this time, as nervous as the thought of seeing Goten made him, he almost wished the younger boy would be there. It felt so strange not seeing him on a daily basis; not talking to him at all. Despite having Gohan's support and friendship, and despite his best efforts to write Goten out of his life, the separation was starting to take its toll on the Saiyan prince.

Gohan didn't fail to notice that faraway look in his roommate's eyes. "I, uh, thought I'd tell Goten to stay away this afternoon. Just until this whole mess is over."

"Oh," Trunks said, drawing himself out of his thoughts to look at his running partner. "You don't have to do that on account of me. Actually, I'd . . . ." Shrugging, he looked back at the pavement. "I'd sort of like to see him again. You know, tell him I'm sorry."

The fact that he wanted to apologize for his actions towards Goten in the past few weeks gave Gohan hope that the teen was beginning to look critically at his own behavior and recognize the effects it had on other people. But even more, Gohan hoped that Trunks was reaching a point where he and Goten could be friends again. It was obvious that each of them needed the other more than either wanted to admit, and he wanted nothing more than to see them work out their problems and rekindle their friendship. But this day would not represent the ideal conditions for their makeup.

"I'm really glad to hear that," he said. "But it isn't so much because of you. He doesn't handle stressful situations like this very well. If he's there, it's just another thing I'll have to worry about. And I really just want to get there, get her shit out, and get gone."

Trunks chuckled at his roommate's choice of words. "I can't blame you there."

"You should call him, though, Trunks," Gohan suggested. He thought about his brother staring at the hills and wishing for his best friend. "I know he misses you."

The prince's head snapped in the direction of his jogging partner again. Surely Gohan knew his own brother better than anyone, but Trunks hadn't really dared to hope that Goten actually missed him. He was sure the younger Son had been far too busy in his girlfriend's bed to think much about him at all. Still he hoped they could at least be on speaking terms again.

They jogged another few miles before either spoke. "Hey, Trunks, about last night . . . ." Gohan kept his eyes trained intently on the trees whizzing by alongside the running trail. "I just wanted to say thanks."

"Knock it off," Trunks said, reaching out to playfully slap his roommate on the back of the head. "That's what friends are for." Gohan laughed and dodged his attempt, but the older demi was relieved at his roommate's casual response. He was still getting used to leaning on someone else with his problems and he wanted to say thanks without rehashing all of the emotions of the previous night. He was grateful that Trunks was making it easy on him.

As his feet pounded the pavement, Gohan began to steel himself for the ordeal that the afternoon would bring. He concentrated on putting the defensive barriers in place that he knew he would need to get through it and was startled when he felt his roommate's hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Gohan," the teen said. "I'll be there with you."

Trunks turned his attention back to the pavement, but Gohan let his eyes linger on the Saiyan prince for a few paces. For as much as he seemed to lecture Trunks, Gohan was all too aware of his own flaws; one of which was a serious failure to stick up for himself at times. And at his roommate's words, he was surprised to feel something like relief. While one could say many things about the Capsule heir, Gohan knew he would defend any one of his friends to the bitter end; whether against a would-be destroyer of Earth or just an ex-girlfriend. The eldest Son was used to people relying on him, not the other way around, and at the moment, it would have been hard for him to express how much that small statement meant. Though he was sure he didn't need to.

After reaching the northernmost point of the city, the two men turned towards home. They covered the remaining blocks as quickly as they could with the increasing pedestrian traffic that was beginning to crowd the sidewalks. Eventually, the roommates rounded a corner and the yellow walls of Capsule Corp. came into view. They crossed the street and continued to jog toward the complex at a good clip.

Just then Gohan heard Trunks gasp and felt the teen pummel him from the left side. The older demi lost his balance as Trunks shoved him hard and the two fell into a row of bushes along the sidewalk. Gohan's breath was knocked out of him as he hit the ground and Trunks landed heavily on top of him. "Geez!" he complained in a strained voice. "Maybe you were right about getting fat."

"Shhhh!" Trunks hissed from above him. Then the Capsule heir tried to peer through the bushes, moving back a few branches with his left hand. "Do you think he saw us?"

"Who?" But Trunks was no longer listening as he slowly climbed to his knees and lifted his head to peer across the top of the bushes. He jumped back with a short cry when his blue eyes met the turquoise stare of Super Saiyan Vegeta.

"Hello, son." The pureblood's lips curled into a smirk as he stood above the two entangled boys. "I think we have some catching up to do."

***

"Ow, Goten! How many times do I have to tell you that's NOT where it goes?"

The demi-Saiyan propped himself up on his palms. His girlfriend lay beneath him, her legs wrapped around his waist. He looked down between them at the place where their naked hips met on the mattress. Everything seemed to be in place and he couldn't understand what he was doing wrong.

"Oh, um, sorry," he looked at her with wide brown eyes. "Which one is it again?" Girls had so much going on down there; he could hardly manage to keep it all straight.

"Not THAT one." She pushed Goten off as she sat up and he rolled onto his side and watched her reach for a t-shirt. "I'm not explaining this to you again. Take an anatomy course or something!"

Anatomy? he thought to himself. Wow, so one had to take an entire college class in order to understand the female body. He nodded solemnly. "Okay, I will next semester."

Tiffany sighed. "Let's just go meet Kim for breakfast."

Goten brightened at the prospect of food. He had arrived at the dorms in the wee hours of the morning and Tiffany had let him in and then fallen right back to sleep. He slept in the small twin bed with her, while Kim slept in her own bed across the room. When the three of them woke up, Kim immediately excused herself to go and get breakfast. She couldn't help but feel like she was cramping the lovebirds' style. The couple had tried to make the best of their time alone together, but it hadn't worked out all that well. And after both had dressed, they headed across campus to the dining hall.

Goten smiled and waved to Kim when he spotted her inside the bustling cafeteria. Then he followed Tiffany to the buffet. As he surveyed the piles of ham, sausage, eggs, bacon, French toast, and potatoes, Goten thought that prepaid meal plans and all-you-can-eat buffets were the very best parts of college. Not bothering to get a plate, he piled his bare tray high with several servings of everything while Tiffany got an éclair and a coffee. Then the two made their way to the table where the other girl sat.

"Didn't expect to see you guys here so soon," Kim commented.

"Yeah, well, someone can't seem to find the right hole," Tiff complained, shooting a glare at Goten.

"Tiffany!" The demi-Saiyan turned crimson.

The dark-haired girl blushed, too, out of embarrassment for their new friend. For his sake, she decided to change the subject. "Oh, Goten, I ran into a friend of yours yesterday."

"Really?" He seemed to forget his self-consciousness quickly enough and dug impatiently into a stack of pancakes in front of him. "Who?" he asked through a mouthful of food.

"A certain purple-haired multi-gazillionaire I think you know."

Goten looked up at her and then finished chewing his food slowly, trying to figure out how to respond. A whole host of different scenarios ran through his mind. Had they talked? Had Trunks been mean to her, or nice? What might he have said to her about him? About them? Finally, he swallowed loudly and tried not to sound too impatient when he said simply, "Oh?"

"Yeah, I ran into him grocery shopping. Then he fixed my new watch for me and we even had lunch together." She shrugged unaffectedly, but Goten couldn't hide his surprise. None of those things sounded like the Trunks he knew. Since when did the Saiyan prince go grocery shopping?

"Really?!" Tiffany perked up. "That's so cool! So are you guys gonna date, or what?"

Goten glanced at his girlfriend then turned back to Kim immediately, awaiting her response. He wasn't sure why he felt so relieved at her answer. "No, Tiffany," she said, not bothering to hide her annoyance. "I keep telling you he wouldn't be interested in me."

"Why not?" the other girl asked, shoving a piece of éclair into her mouth. "You're as pretty as any of the girls here. Present company excluded, of course."

"Anyway." Kim rolled her dark brown eyes then turned back to Goten. "I went with him to the apartment that he shares with your brother. Nice place!"

"Oh my god, you were in his apartment and you guys didn't fool around? What is wrong with you, girl?"

Now it was Goten who shot Tiffany an annoyed look. "So, Kim … did he seem…? I mean, how is he doing?" The demi-Saiyan reached up to play with a lock of hair nervously. "We haven't really talked much lately."

"Seemed fine to me," she said, pretending not to notice his obviously keen interest in the subject. "Says him and your brother get along really great."

"No kidding? Him and Gohan?" Goten tilted his head to the side in amazement. When they had first moved in together, he had wondered how long it would be before one drove the other crazy. "Weird."

"Yeah, and I guess the school newspaper will have to find itself a new cover story soon," she joked. "He said he's transferring to Weston in the spring."

"Huh? Transferring?"

"Yeah. Didn't you know?"

"Unt-uh," Goten shook his head in the negative and stared at the table. He had not failed to notice that Trunks stopped showing up to the classes they had together. But since his picture was always in the school paper, Goten knew he was still on campus most days. He was sure the other demi had only changed his schedule in an effort to avoid him. Now it seemed that Trunks was leaving the school altogether and Goten couldn't quite understand why he felt so sad.

But then he realized that hearing about Trunks' life through the newspaper or a casual acquaintance was strange and unsettling. They had been so close for so long, and now he had no idea what was going on with his best friend. His features creased into a frown as he pondered it. Trunks was grocery shopping and getting along with Gohan; having lunch with Kim; transferring to another school. It was almost as though Goten didn't know him at all anymore.

Finally he looked up at Kim again. "So, what else did he say?" Goten asked, unable to keep the curiosity out of his soft voice.

"Nothing much, really. Hey, what's the deal with his dad? Is he, like, crazy or something?"

"Vegeta?" Goten laughed. "No, he's just . . ." he shook his head trying to find the right words. "He's really intense."

"I guess so. Seems like he's pretty mad at Trunks. Said he was gonna make him regret the day he was born or something like that."

Goten smiled. "I bet you he skipped training again." He thought about the last time Trunks had done that. When they were in the storage closet together.

"Goten, are you okay?" Tiffany asked. "You're blushing again."

His phone rang then and Goten was thankful for the interruption. Pulling it out of his pocket, he saw his brother's name on the caller I.D. and flipped it open. "Hey, big brother."

"Goten, are you at home?"

"No, I'm on campus. What's up?"

"Is it possible for you to stay there for awhile? Trunks and I are gonna go out to Mount Paozu this afternoon and move Videl out of the house. So I promise it'll be safe to come home soon. But, until then, you might want to stay with your girlfriend."

Goten put down the phone. "Hey, is it okay if I stay again tonight?" He looked at both girls. "Please, Kim?" he begged when she gave an annoyed groan. The boy blinked long, dark lashes at her.

"Fiiine," she relented, lifting her palms in defeat and gesturing in his direction. "How can I say no to that face? You're damn lucky you're cute, Goten."

"Thanks!" His attractive features immediately lit up in a smile. "Okay, Gohan, I'll stay here tonight."

"Great," his older brother said. "Hey, listen. Once things calm down a little bit, what do you say we get together? I'd like to talk to you about everything that's been going on lately. Trunks, Videl, Mom . . . I worry about you, little bro."

"Okay, I guess," Goten agreed. Then he had an idea. "Hey, maybe I could come by the apartment some time!" That way he could talk to his brother and maybe see Trunks, too. If they could just talk for a few minutes, maybe then he could see how his friend was doing for himself instead of having to get his information through intermediaries.

"Yeah, that would work." Gohan didn't think Trunks would mind, since the prince had expressed an interest in seeing Goten, too, just that morning. And now that it seemed both boys felt the same way, he could let himself take some comfort in the idea that they may be reconciled soon. "In fact, I think it'd be really good," he said, more enthusiastically. "So I'll talk to you later then."

"Bye, Gohan."

As he hung up the phone, Goten seriously wondered if there was something wrong with him. Here he was sitting with a very pretty blond who liked him; who wanted to be with him. He had the girlfriend he'd been wanting for so long. He tried to turn his attention to the girls' conversation about the latest episode of Gossip Girl, but his thoughts kept drifting. He had known when he left Trunks that it would be the end of the road for them, but going cold turkey was so much harder than he thought it would be. Before that night on the balcony, Goten had been obsessed by the idea of getting away from Trunks. Yet now he couldn't stop thinking about being with him.

He had his freedom. So why weren't things getting any clearer?

***

Four hours later, the elder Son was just about to leave for the country without his roommate when he felt the teen's ki-signature approaching the apartment. He headed down the hall for Trunks' room, curious to see how Vegeta's punishment had played out. Gohan leaned in the bedroom doorway as his roommate landed across from him on the balcony. As soon as his feet touched down, Trunks collapsed against the glass, as though he didn't have the energy to move, much less open the door.

"Little help, Gohan?" His voice was muffled by the thick pane of glass and the fact that his cheek was flattened against it and Gohan couldn't suppress a chuckle at his roommate's penchant for melodrama as he rounded the bed. When he opened the door, Trunks fell into the room and the older man had little choice but to lean down and catch him, then turn around and drop him onto the bed.

"Owww!" Trunks groaned miserably as he bounced. "You have no bedside manner."

"I keep telling you that I'm not a doctor."

"A shame." He clutched at his left side. "I probably need one."

"That bad, huh?"

"Worse." He winced as Gohan sat down next to him and the springy mattress bounced again.

"So, I guess I'll head out to Videl's without you, then."

"No." Trunks managed to lift up one bruised arm in protest. "No, I'm definitely going." He pushed himself into an upright position then slowly lifted off the bed and began limping towards the bathroom. "I skipped spending the afternoon in that synthetic DNA thingy so that I could do this." He leaned against the sink and kicked off his sneakers followed by his socks. "It's too good an opportunity to pass up."

"What do you mean?" Gohan asked suspiciously, lifting his chin and staring down the teenager.

"I just want to see Videl." Trunks' innocent-sounding voice echoed from the bathroom. "You know she's always been one of my favorite people."

"Oh, no, no, no," Gohan warned, getting up from the bed and shaking his finger. "I hope you're not thinking what I think you're thinking."

What Trunks was thinking was that Gohan managed to look quite sexy when admonishing him. Honestly, it almost made him want to be bad.

"Don't worry, Gohan. I'll behave," he promised. "And if I don't," he added with a wink, "you can discipline me." In the moment before he lifted his sleeveless shirt over his head, he thoroughly enjoyed that dumbfounded expression on the other man's handsome face. It was clear he still didn't quite know how to take those casual innuendos Trunks liked to throw around.

But the older demi's features quickly creased into a frown. "Jesus, did you even try to defend yourself?" Gohan asked. Beneath his shirt, the heir to the Saiyan crown was covered in a striking canvas of deep purples and reds. His torso seemed to have suffered the worst of it but his arms showed a few darkening contusions as well. Gohan reached out to run his fingers over the ribs on the left side of the other demi's back. "Are they broken?"

Trunks sucked in his breath and involuntarily jerked away from the contact. Then, ignoring his discomfort, he leaned down to turn on the shower water. "Every time we heal, we get stronger," he repeated his father. "And I'm assuming the beatings will continue until I'm stronger than you. Which is to say 'indefinitely'." Gohan continued to look over the younger Saiyan. Vegeta was always a ruthless opponent, and sure, Trunks had baited him. But this seemed rather brutal, even for him.

"Gohan, don't look at me like that," Trunks complained, embarrassed, as he dangled his arm under the water waiting for it to get warm. It was not uncommon for him to walk away from a training session with a few injuries and Goten had long ago gotten used to seeing him this way. But the elder Son's scrutinizing eyes were making Trunks self-conscious.

"Do you know that you can use your ki as a shield?" Gohan offered. "It's almost like the shield the androids use, but it's made with your spirit energy. I used it to protect Krillin and Piccolo once when we were fighting this guy named Garlic."

"As delicious as that sounds, Gohan, it's not a big deal," Trunks informed him. "It's just training. I know I whine about it sometimes, but I'm glad that he cares enough to do it. I committed the worst crime in his rule book when I skipped out the other day," Trunks continued. "A warrior should want to fight, and to him, it's like turning my back on my Saiyan side when I avoid training. To be honest, I kind of needed this reminder." Then Trunks cracked a smile. "Hey, just imagine if he knew I had done it so I could make dinner for your third class ass!"

"I guess you're right," Gohan acquiesced. Actually, if he thought about it, his own father had nearly killed him when he was trying to push Gohan to reach super Saiyan for the first time. Not to mention Piccolo's less than sympathetic training regimen. And back then Gohan had only been four years old! He shook his head and realized he was being far too overprotective of Trunks. He figured it must be the result of the last few weeks. He had gotten much too used to looking out for the kid.

The elder Son laughed then. "Just please tell me that you don't have the same reaction to Vegeta beating the crap out of you as you did to me beating the crap out of you." Gohan remembered the teen's obviously aroused state the last time they had gravity trained together. His roommate was good at flustering him but he thought a comment like that might be enough to get a rise out of Trunks for once.

But the other demi only stared at the floor. "If you must know, Gohan," he admitted quietly, "the only time I feel truly alive is when I'm doubled over at his feet, gasping for air and choking on my own blood." Trunks closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "Father. He knows how to make it hurt so good."

"Are—are you serious?" Gohan gasped, eyes wide.

"No, you dork!" Trunks attempted to slap him upside the head for the second time that day, and this time he hit his mark. "Now go and make yourself useful." He pointed towards the closet in his room. "There's Tiger Balm and Ace bandages in there. You'll have to wrap me. But after that, I'll be ready to go out to Videl's.." Turning away, he slid his pants down and stepped into the shower.

The older demi put both hands up in a gesture of surrender. He was pretty sure he didn't want to hear any more of what went on in that lavender head of his. "You are seriously twisted, Trunks," he mumbled as he headed for the closet.

"Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea."

***

The two arrived at Videl's house a short time later. Trunks approached the door first and was about to ring the bell when he noticed the door had been knocked off its hinges and was only propped against the frame. "Your work?" he asked his companion to which Gohan only looked away, embarrassed. "Niiice," Trunks said appreciatively, patting him on the back.

The younger demi carefully lifted the wooden door up and pushed it out of their way. "Helloooo?" his voice echoed through the house, which was already looking emptier with furniture covered in sheets and most of the couple's belongings already put into boxes. "Anyone home?"

Videl appeared on the landing above them and waved in acknowledgement of their arrival. "I'm just finishing clearing off some furniture up here," she informed them, getting right to the point. "It'll be ready to come down in a few minutes." With that she disappeared back down the hallway.

Gohan was glad that she didn't beat around the bush. As he had told Trunks earlier that morning, he just wanted to get this thing done so he could put this whole chapter of his life behind him. He hoped that after today he would have some closure, and he was eager to get on with the task at hand. "I'm going to go see what I can do to help," he said to Trunks, then took the stairs two-by-two.

"Sure," the Saiyan prince said to an empty living room. Then he looked around, trying to decide where he should start. But at that moment a blond man entered from the back part of the house. He stopped abruptly when he saw Trunks.

"Oh, uh, are you here to help us move?"

Trunks noticed the man was rather jumpy. "Yup, guess so," he said, as he looked the guy up and down. He sure didn't seem like much. Trunks couldn't help but wonder what the hell Videl had been thinking.

"So . . . is Gohan here, then?" the blond asked nervously.

"Upstairs." The teen pointed to the landing just as Videl reappeared there.

"Hi, honey," she came down, approached the blond, and leaned over to kiss him. Trunks made a face as Sharpener kissed her back. It was so weird to see Videl acting like that with someone else. And to do it right in front of him. He found the whole thing distasteful.

"Ahem," the prince cleared his throat and Videl looked at him disparagingly. Then she turned towards the stairs again as Gohan came down. He took notice of how close his ex-wife and ex-classmate were standing and paused mid-step. The older demi was holding a desk above his head and Sharpener eyed it apprehensively as he took a step to the left, away from Videl. Still, her hand remained on his arm, rubbing it gently.

"Uh, here let me help you," Trunks offered, taking a few steps toward his roommate.

"I've got it," Gohan insisted, irritably pushing past the younger Saiyan and heading out the front door to the waiting trucks.

When he returned to the house, Videl and her boyfriend were wrapping various breakables in pages of newspaper and boxing them. They chatted happily about their plans to decorate their new place as though they were any other young couple about to move in together for the first time. Trunks couldn't believe their audacity and his contempt for them was growing by the minute. But not quite as quickly as his concern for Gohan.

The Capsule heir channeled his annoyance into the task at hand, taking the couches and then the coffee table and end tables outside and hurriedly loading them up. He decided Gohan was right and getting this done as quickly as possible was the best plan of action.

Over the next few hours, Trunks watched his roommate closely as his roommate watched the couple. It was clear that everything about the way they interacted bothered Gohan. Those soft tones Videl used with Sharpener. The way she stood close to him, so their arms touched when they moved. He knew that Gohan didn't want to see it, but that he couldn't manage to look away. It was self-defeating behavior that the demi-Saiyan prince was all too familiar with. By the time they had finished loading all of the upstairs furniture and had begun packing the smaller knick-knacks and trinkets scattered around the living room, Trunks had just about had enough.

As he dusted off a painted vase, he watched the lovers stand near the book shelves on the far side of the room. Videl nuzzled the blond's hair and giggled as he whispered some sweet nothing to her.

"That's it," Trunks said to himself, dropping the vase none-too-delicately as he walked towards the two. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gohan shoot him a look of warning. He could almost hear that stern voice in head telling him not to do anything stupid, but he ignored it. Sharpener was struggling to lift a heavy box of books until Videl relieved him of it and started across the room.

Trunks stepped in front of her. "Please, allow me." He feigned politeness, but his icy eyes conveyed only antipathy. Videl held his stare for a moment, her own eyes distrustful. But, having no reason to protest, she allowed him to take the box from her hands.

"Thank you," she said in a tone of forced gratitude and Trunks watched her as she picked up a broom and retreated up the stairs, presumably to clean the now empty bedroom. When she was gone, he turned to the blond man nearby and flashed him an easy smile.

"I don't think we've officially met. I'm Trunks. It looks like you could use some help over here."

"Oh, uh, sure. Thanks." He held out his hand hesitantly. "Sharpener." As Trunks shook his hand, the man eyed the bandage tightly wrapped around the demi-Saiyan's right elbow. "Hey, you sure you're up for this?"

"Oh, yeah," Trunks waved him off. "Don't worry about me. In fact, I can carry a lot more than this. Why don't I hold this box and you pile it up with all the books on that shelf."

Gohan, apparently satisfied that Trunks wasn't planning anything, left the room and headed for the kitchen to pack up the pots, pans, and dishes. Meanwhile, Sharpener obeyed and in no time he and Trunks had an entire wall of books packed into the waiting vans.

"Aren't you even tired?" Sharpener had to inquire as the lavender-haired man moved to the next floor-to-ceiling bookshelf and began pulling volumes down. He looked at Trunks inquisitively. He knew Gohan and his friends were strong, but he couldn't help but be amazed by the displays of power that seemed so natural to both Gohan and the young man helping him.

Trunks wiped his brow. "No, not at all. Getting a little warm though." He grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt then lifted it over his head and discarded it onto the floor. "So, whaddaya say we get started on this china cabinet?" Trunks pointed over his shoulder.

"Man, what happened to you?" Sharpener asked, a horrified look on his face. Aside from the bandages on Trunks' arm, the blond now saw that his lower ribs were wrapped in Ace bandages as well, and beneath the dressings was a rainbow of colored abrasions.

"What?" Trunks looked down at his torso. "Oh, you mean this?" Then he looked apprehensively around the room before lowering his voice. "I can't really talk about it here."

"Why not?" Sharpener asked anxiously.

Trunks lowered his voice even further until he was whispering, a fearful expression contorting his features. "I don't want Gohan getting mad. I never know what he'll do."

"Gohan did that?!" Sharpener cried, then slapped both of his hands over his mouth.

"Shhhh!" Trunks pleaded with him.

When the blond next spoke it was much softer. He leaned in closer to Trunks. "But he seems so mild mannered."

The Saiyan prince bent forward to match the other's semi-crouched position. "I know it's hard to believe. But he's under so much pressure all the time. I think he just . . . snaps every once in a while, you know?" Trunks loudly snapped his fingers and Sharpener jumped at the sound. "I just consider myself lucky to be the guy's friend. I can't imagine how he'd treat his enemies!"

The lavender-haired demi stood up straight again and walked over to continue piling up books. He cheerfully attempted to change the subject. "But, anyway, enough about me. You never did tell me—how is it that you know Gohan?"

The blond stood frozen in place, the answer stuck on his lips. When he finally found his voice again, he only sputtered, "I—you know, I've got to—I just remembered I . . . ." He backed away from the lavender-haired man as he tried to find the right words. Between this surprising revelation and Gohan kicking in the door the day before, he was quite sure that the next time Gohan snapped, he was likely to be the victim. And if Gohan could make someone as strong as Trunks look this bad, then Sharpener didn't stand a chance! Giving up on verbalizing an explanation, he turned and ran out of the room as fast as his legs would carry him. A second later, the room filled with the sounds of screeching tires and a car speeding down the road and quickly fading into the distance.

Gohan bounded in from the kitchen and stared at the door where the man had just fled. Then he turned with a questioning expression towards his roommate. But at that moment, Trunks was engaged in a staring contest with Videl, who had just appeared at the top of the stairs. Her eyes were narrowed in anger and his sparkled as he barely managed to suppress a laugh.

"What did you do?" she asked accusingly.

"Videl, your boy's a fucking pansy," Trunks taunted. He crossed his arms with a shrug. "I think he saw a mouse."

"You little shit," she swore at the demi-Saiyan angrily and then raced down the stairs before coming to a halt directly in front of him. "I'd really love to wipe that smirk off your face one of these days." He looked down at her as if daring her to do so while she looked over the rest of his bruised body. "But it looks like now that you're all grown up the level of force needed to keep you in line is beyond what I could dish out."

"Probably," he agreed calmly. "But then, your specialty is more tearing people apart slowly from the inside, isn't it Videl?"

"Why you little—!" She gritted her teeth. "Let me tell you something Trunks Briefs. You are nothing but a goddamned, overly indulged, pretty boy fa—."

"VIDEL."

There was that 'don't fuck with me' tone Gohan rarely used and it had the intended effect of stopping her tirade mid-syllable. As she turned to face him, Gohan's eyes flashed with a protectiveness she had seen him display only on rare occasions in the past, when his friends and family were threatened.

"If anyone has been overly indulged here, it's you," he accentuated the last two words firmly. "Trunks is a better person than you could ever hope to be and I'd advise you not to finish that sentence."

She closed her gaping mouth without another word. Catching Gohan's stare, the Saiyan prince smiled in earnest. He couldn't care less what Videl thought of him. But Gohan . . . . Gohan had called him a good person.

Not to mention, when they were little, the older demi had always taken Videl's side against the two boys. Of course Trunks couldn't blame him for that. At the time, Gohan was trying to win her heart and his little brother and Trunks were just a couple of annoying kids who followed them around. Still, he felt the need to commemorate this little victory and, with all the cheerful animosity of a nine-year-old who's had enough of his babysitter, Trunks leaned forward, arms still folded over his chest, and stuck out his tongue at her. "Mmnneehhh!"

At the sight, which was so ridiculous after such a tense standoff, Gohan couldn't help but laugh. It started as a soft chuckle and he put a hand over his mouth to cover it. But soon he broke out into a loud giggle and then outright laughter. After Trunks was done spitting at Videl, he noticed his roommate's reaction and found himself unable to suppress an amused chuckle of his own. Laughter like that was undeniably contagious, although he had to grasp his ribs harder with every contraction of the diaphragm.

But Videl remained immune to their good humor. She looked back and forth between the two with a series of offended gasps. "Ugh!" she spat disgustedly, then yelled, "you two can have each other!" With that she stormed out of the house after her lover.

The demi-Saiyans made an effort to control their giggling as they turned to watch her go. But when they heard the unmistakable sound of her car screeching off in the same direction as the other man's had gone, they both doubled over again. "Did you—," Gohan managed to catch his breath for a moment. "Did you see her face?"

"She's pissed," the teen agreed. "Sharpener's gonna have his hands full tonight."

"Better him than me!"

Eventually the echoing peels of laughter slowed and tapered off. Still holding his ribs lightly, Trunks made his way over to where his roommate was standing and leaned against a tall hutch, which was one of only a few remaining pieces of furniture in the room. He slapped Gohan's shoulder affectionately.

"Seriously, though, I'm sorry," he offered. "I just couldn't stand the way the two of them were making you feel. We're better off finishing up on our own."

Gohan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It was that obvious, huh?" Trunks watched him closely as his features turned somber again. "I just—. I can't—." He took a breath. "I always thought she wasn't a very affectionate person. That was how I rationalized the way she acted towards me. And I . . . . I held back so much of what I felt for her. That's just the way things were between us for as long as I can remember. And then to see the way she was with him." He shook his head. "Talk about shattering your illusions."

It occurred to Trunks that Gohan wasn't really the repressed guy he had accused him of being. One only needed to be near him to know that he was a passionate and loving person. He had simply been keeping his feelings to himself for so long that it must have become second nature and Trunks couldn't help but think that it was a damned shame. And, even more so than before, he wanted to show Gohan what it was that he had been missing out on all these years. He wanted so badly to give him the affection Videl had denied. He was learning that Gohan was so much more than he seemed at first glance. Everything about him was waiting to be discovered just under the surface.

Lost in his thoughts, Trunks didn't even realize he had reached out to trace the hairline of the man beside him as the setting sun cast golden shadows on his face until Gohan's head shot up at the touch and he glanced in Trunks' direction.

"So that's what you want then. You've figured it out."

The older demi looked back at the floor. He couldn't deny it. Who didn't want that? That intimate connection with another human being. That feeling of meaning everything to someone and having someone mean everything to you. Love in all its various incarnations. Wasn't that was made the world worth fighting for?

Trunks let his fingers slide beneath Gohan's chin and pulled him closer, pressing their foreheads together. "Let me give that to you," he whispered fervently.

"Trunks . . . ." Gohan made a half-hearted attempt to duck his head out of the other man's grasp. Despite all that they had been through since then, he was sure that essentially nothing had changed since the last time Trunks had tried something like this.

The Saiyan prince could see that Gohan was fighting with himself and he tried to understand what was going on in his roommate's head. This was Gohan, who never made his own feelings a priority. So, unlike his little brother, he wouldn't be worried about what people might think of him or what being with Trunks would mean about his sexuality. It didn't take the teen long to realize that Gohan was only wondering if Trunks knew what he was doing, what he was asking for. He was wondering if the boy wanted him for all the wrong reasons. And that's why he was holding back.

"Gohan, I'm not a kid anymore," the younger demi insisted. "You and my mother, you need to stop trying to protect me all the time. Sure, I've made some mistakes, but I've learned a lot from them. Everything that's happened, maybe it's all been leading us here . . . ." Trunks trailed off.

To this moment. To each other.

"Look," the teen continued after a short silence, taking his roommate's hand. "I won't bother you anymore, Gohan. I'll turn around, walk away and leave you alone if you can honestly tell me," he raised Gohan's hand to his mouth and kissed the sensitive skin on the inside of his wrist, "that you've never thought about this. That you never think about me when you're alone." He returned the other man's arm to his side and moved in closer to him. "That you've never thought about what it'd be like to do this." Trunks planted a second fleeting kiss on the dark-haired demi's neck. "Cuz I've thought about you," he whispered, lifting his head up to his roommate's cheek. "I've thought about you a lot. And I know you're not Goten. I'm in a position to know just exactly how much you are not like Goten. So now you tell me, Gohan." He pressed their bodies together. "Tell me that I'm not what you want."

Gohan leaned back against the hutch behind them, moving his upper body away from the other man's so he could look into his eyes. Azure irises flashed with thinly veiled desire and a part of him couldn't deny how good it felt to be wanted this way, especially after so many years of detached coldness. And the heat with which the young prince looked at him was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. But a part of him still strongly felt that he had to do so.

"Trunks," Gohan averted his eyes in an effort to regain some control. "We can't always trust our bodies."

"On the contrary, Gohan. Sometimes I think it's the only thing we can trust."

He pressed both his lips together to the top of Gohan's open mouth, gently kissing his upper lip, then pulled back so his nose brushed the other's. Gohan could feel Trunks' bangs tickling his face. Those few unruly strands that always crossed in front of his eyes.

"What is it about you, Gohan?" the teen wondered aloud. "You know what's best for everyone else, but you don't seem to know how to listen to yourself."

Finally, Trunks' lips made the contact he had been craving, and Gohan's mouth reluctantly opened under his own. The teen let his tongue slip between his lips and moisten his roommate's. As the younger boy deepened the kiss, Gohan found it easier and easier to ignore those nagging reservations. Thoughts of his brother, his ex, and anyone else were beginning to slip away.

All he could think about was Trunks. The lavender-haired man was invading all of his senses. And it felt good. Too good to shut him out again. Without thinking, he began to respond, opening his mouth further to accommodate the probing tongue, and even reaching up to run two inquisitive fingers along Trunks' jaw line. He traced the faultless bone structure there, underneath tanned skin, and remembered the way the prince's ki had enveloped him that night in the kitchen. That intoxicating pulsation and disarming aura. Gohan was falling under the same spell now and it was true he wanted to give himself over to it entirely. But, instead, planting his thumb firmly on the other's chin, he stopped Trunks from pressing in for another forbidden kiss.

He looked the prince in the face one more time. Could he trust what his roommate said? That he knew what he was doing? Or were they both letting their insecurities get the best of them? How could he know for sure if it was real? And if it was, then where would they go from here?

"I don't know if I'm ready," he admitted honestly.

"Aw, don't worry, Gohan," Trunks flashed a trademark grin. "I'll catch if it'll make you feel better."

"Wha…?" When the older demi got his meaning he couldn't suppress another snigger. "That's so not what I meant," he clarified, although he had to admit, the logistics of being with another man did make him a tiny bit nervous.

"Batter up, Gohan," Trunks did his best to lighten the mood, and the two shared another quiet moment of laughter as the dark-haired demi absently traced the inside of Trunks' arm with his fingers. But he soon became serious again.

"I mean I don't know if I'm ready to . . . to give you . . . ." He stumbled over his words before finally figuring out what he was trying to say. "To be honest, there's just not much left of me to give right now."

"Stop." The younger man wrapped his arms around the other's back. "Let's not try to figure everything out tonight. We're friends aren't we? We care about each other, don't we? That's enough for now."

Gohan let the prince engage him in another scorching kiss. Could it be so bad, he thought, to let Trunks have his way just this once?

Entwining his fingers in lavender hair, he pulled the other demi back just a few inches so he could breathe, "Let's go home, kid."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The next thing Trunks knew, the two roommates were back in their apartment in West City. He was still in Gohan's arms, but everything around them seemed to be spinning. The teen was dizzy and stumbled away from the other demi, losing his balance. He landed against the nearby dining room table before regaining his senses. Then he shot a look at Gohan.

"When the hell did you learn to do that?!" he snapped. "You could have at least warned me."

"Aw, I'm sorry," Gohan's tone was amused. "You're just so irresistible, I couldn't wait another minute to get you home."

Trunks thought the explanation sounded sarcastic, and Gohan had obviously done it just to fluster him. "I don't remember Instant Transmission being so turbulent," he grumbled to himself.

"I'm still working out the kinks," Gohan admitted, as he approached the younger Saiyan, who was now half-sitting on the edge of the table, collecting himself.

"Well experiment on someone else!" Trunks looked utterly affronted. "I could have ended up as a part of this table or stuck together with you or lost out in space somewh—."

But before he had the chance to complain further, Gohan leaned down to kiss him again. He did so experimentally, as if he wanted a second bite of a dish he wasn't sure whether or not he liked. He let himself explore the prince's mouth this time, massaging Trunks' tongue with his own, and the younger boy forgot his irritation quickly. He relaxed his jaw to welcome the other's gentle probing and Gohan enjoyed the sudden silence. He made a mental note that kissing Trunks was an effective and rather enjoyable way to shut him up.

The teen lifted his chin to meet his roommate's lips. He tried to stand up straight to get closer to that searing tongue he had waited so long to taste. But Gohan pushed him back into a half-seated position and held him there with a firm hand on his abdomen. So far, in their albeit limited sexual history, Trunks had always been the aggressor. He had repeatedly managed to fluster Gohan and Gohan decided he'd had the upper hand long enough. If Trunks was intent on seducing him, he would not merely be a passive partner.

The younger demi didn't fight back and obeyed the unspoken command to stay put. When Gohan broke the kiss, the teen leaned back, resting his palms behind him on the table. He stared at the elder Son with glazed eyes. His backside remained perched on the edge of the table, and Gohan found himself looking down over the prince's half naked form.

They had left Trunks' t-shirt lying where he had tossed it, somewhere on the floor of Videl's living room and, although Gohan had seen Trunks in every conceivable state of undress over the years, it somehow felt like he was looking at him for the first time. He pondered the change as he let his hand explore the firm muscles beneath it.

Gohan traced the lines of Trunks' abdomen, still showing some signs of Vegeta's revenge although, in the shadowy half-light of the apartment, the bruises became much less visible. Then, sliding a palm over the bandages that made a wide stripe across his roommate's ribs, he noticed that this time Trunks didn't flinch. Gohan figured he was already healing and would be as good as new in a day or two. It might be fun to spar then, he found himself thinking, as his hand moved across the other's chest. It was something he had yet to get used to, touching Trunks this way. But he couldn't deny his appreciation for the other's sculpted form, masculine though it was.

Trunks shivered at his roommate's ephemeral touch. Gohan's aimlessly wandering fingers were setting his skin on fire. "C'mere you." Wanting more contact, he grabbed the front of Gohan's shirt in his fist and pulled him down until their noses almost touched. "What are you thinking about so intently when you look at me like that, huh?" he asked, his curiosity getting the best of him. It wasn't exactly desire he saw in Gohan's eyes. It was more like thoughtfulness, and Trunks wondered at his roommate's ability to be so analytical in a moment when his own mind was clouded with lust.

"That this is crazy," Gohan answered him quietly, his warm breath reminding Trunks just how close his mouth was.

"Good crazy or bad crazy?" The prince studied his roommate's lips as he awaited a response.

"I haven't decided yet."

Trunks lifted his chin to close the small distance between them and traced the inside of Gohan's lips with one daring stroke of his tongue. Taking the bait, Gohan entwined his fingers in his roommate's hair and turned his head to the side. He dragged his lips along the prince's jaw before planting a warm, wet kiss on his neck. He couldn't help but notice the way Trunks smelled; the way he tasted . . . . . And Gohan was suddenly very thankful for his heightened senses as he breathed the teen in. He pressed a few kisses underneath the boy's jaw and felt Trunks drop his head back, yielding to his movements with an audible breath.

Oh god, Gohan thought, if he didn't stop this now . . . .

He ceased his ministrations and stared at the cherry wood of the table beneath them, swallowing loudly.

Trunks noticed the sudden change and waited a moment for the other to continue. But Gohan was standing there as if frozen. "Gohan?" he whispered worriedly. "What's wrong?"

When the older man leaned back to face him, Trunks saw that contemplative look in his eyes again. He blinked up at the older demi as if the next thing that Gohan said would make or break him. As if, at that moment, Gohan held his whole life in his hands.

"C'mon, Gohan," the teen joked. "Don't make me beg."

Once again, the elder Son found himself virtually swimming in pools of blue. But there was desperation there, even as Trunks broke into that overly casual grin he often sported when he was trying to hide his real emotions. Gohan would have thought the demi-Saiyan prince had an ego that could rival even his father's, but he was learning Trunks was not as self-assured as he often pretended to be. That hopeful yet anxious look in the teen's eyes begged Gohan for acceptance, for approval, for any clue as to what he was thinking.

When Goten left, the things he said had made their impression on the lavender-haired Saiyan. He didn't let himself dwell on it often, but deep down he felt that Goten's insistence on seeing what else was out there was really just another way of saying anyone would be better than him. Trunks couldn't help but wonder what was so wrong with him that the younger boy would seek not only to be with someone else, but seemingly to be with anyone else. Indeed, Goten had thrown himself at the first person who showed any interest in him at college. Almost as if he only needed the right excuse to leave. And the sting of knowing that the other boy was so desperate to get away from him hurt like a physical pain to which Vegeta's fists couldn't even compare.

Goten had been growing more and more distant in the months before he'd left, and Trunks realized after the fact that he must have been thinking about leaving for a long time before he had ended things. He'd shied away from intimate contact more and more towards the end, so that even before that fateful night on the balcony, Trunks had gotten used to wanting and to feeling unwanted. It had only caused him to hold tighter to Goten and seek his constant reassurances. And the weeks since their parting had done little to remedy those insecurities. If anything, they had been exacerbated.

But at least now he could look back on his mistakes with some clarity. And he thought, really thought, that he deserved another chance.

But even as he perched there in front of Gohan, he was waiting to hear those words he had recently become so familiar with. Waiting for Gohan to tell him to stop. That he wasn't interested and that this was all a mistake. And Trunks didn't think he could handle another rejection. No, he was sure he couldn't.

The teen's apprehensive eyes drew Gohan in and threatened to drown him. The older demi could clearly see his roommate's need reflected there, and he already knew he wouldn't bring himself to deny Trunks this time. The elder Son's last truly lucid thought, as he closed his eyes and pulled Trunks to him, was that he was in a hell of a lot of trouble. As he kissed the prince's forehead and cheeks before capturing his mouth, he knew he was giving Trunks everything that he wanted, but it didn't seem to matter anymore. Somewhere inside he had a weakness for the boy sitting in front of him; and when that satisfied sigh escaped the teen's lips, Gohan's worst fears were confirmed. It was captivating.

Dende help him if Trunks ever found out.

Want to know what happens next? You'll have to check out the story at the Adult Fan Fiction or Boxer & Rice sites ;-) That is, if you're over 18. Thanks for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

"To lose all my senses, that is just so typically me."

--Britney

**Chapter 13**

Trunks opened his eyes, still red-rimmed and blurry from sleep. Morning light poured into the room from the large glass door he was facing, the single gauzy curtain that hung in front of it doing little to block out the sun. But instead of rolling over and pulling the covers over his head to get away from it, Trunks smiled drowsily. He was glad to be awake for the first time in as long as he could remember.

Things were good. Things were really good. He didn't know exactly why he felt so content, but he let his eyes droop closed again.

Ah, right.

Gohan.

A few pornographic images flickered on the backs of his eyelids. "Mmmm." He rolled over to face his bedmate, but the other side of the bed was empty. He sat up.

"Morning."

The other demi was standing near the foot of the bed. He had put his discarded boxer shorts back on and was carefully folding his wrinkled jeans. His expression was indecipherable but his dark eyes glowed like embers in the morning sun. Trunks lamented that the ebony irises were so difficult to read. The prince looked away, glancing towards the balcony and beyond at the tidy, tree-lined streets of the city below.

So this was what people called The Morning After.

"Were you going somewhere?" he asked, keeping his eyes trained on the trees.

"I thought I'd go and get us some breakfast."

Gohan observed the teen as he turned to face him again, a suspicious look in his blue eyes. One corner of Gohan's mouth curled into an understanding smile. "Did you think I was running out on your or something?" He had never known Trunks to be the paranoid type. But then again, he supposed the prince's ego had taken a bit of a hit recently. He moved around to the side of the bed nearest the sliding door and sat down so he was eye-level with his roommate. The mattress shifted under his weight and he reached out to push Trunks' short hair off his forehead. "I just didn't want to wake you, that's all."

The touch, though innocuous, was warm and affectionate and the teen brought himself to meet his roommate's gaze. Gohan leaned in to press his lips to Trunks' temple. When he pulled back, he lingered near the teen's cheek and Trunks pecked him lightly on the mouth.

The fireworks of the previous night came back to the front of the prince's mind even at the chaste contact, and he was reluctant to let the other go. He kissed the dark-haired demi again, opening his lips more this time and keeping his tongue to himself only because he hadn't had time to brush his teeth yet. "Well, since I'm awake anyway, what about having dessert first?"

Gohan chuckled and absently traced along Trunks' clavicle with his fingers. "It's tempting. But . . . I think maybe we should talk." The teen groaned. Why did Gohan always have to think so much? Why couldn't he just jump in head first like a normal person? "Over fresh cinnamon rolls?" The elder Son attempted a compromise. "I was thinking of hitting up that bakery on Seventh Ave. The one you like so much."

"How'd you know I liked it?" Trunks tilted his head and Gohan shrugged bashfully.

"You mentioned it when we jogged past there the other day."

The teen couldn't hide a smile. "Oh, alright," he relented, the Saiyan side of him convincing the human side that sugary breakfast pastries were almost as good as morning sex. "Get the kind with real icing, though. None of that drizzled honey stuff. And no nuts."

"Your highness," Gohan teased as he stood up.

Trunks stretched his arms out over his head. "Wake me when you get back, babe," he yawned, settling into the pillows again. He was sure the round trip would take his roommate a good half hour and he planned on spending that time in dreamland. "Oh, and Gohan." The older man stopped at the door and glanced back at the boy, whose muffled voice drifted from amidst the bedding. "Take a shower first. We don't want you pulling a Videl on anyone."

***

Twenty minutes later, a fresh and clean Gohan stood in line at the bakery, enjoying the smell of sweet bread as it came out of the ovens and pondering Trunks' last words. Aside from being characteristically insensitive, they spoke volumes about the younger boy's relationship habits. Gohan himself had awakened feeling more relaxed than he had in a long time, and with that touch of giddiness that always came with the promise of something exciting and new. In his eagerness to get breakfast for the two of them, housekeeping issues like showering had almost slipped his mind.

Not that he wanted to break the news to Vegeta or anyone else he might run into by pulling a Videl; not in a million years! Nonetheless, it surprised him that the still half asleep teenager had the foresight to take such precautions; as though they were second nature to him. Gohan realized that in his marriage, he had become rather lax about the whole issue, since no one minded if married people had sex. In fact, family members – human and Saiyan alike – heartily encouraged it, hoping to hear the pitter patter of little feet one day.

Trunks, on the other hand, must have gone to a considerable amount of trouble to hide whatever it was he'd been doing the last few years. After all, he had to have gotten all that experience from somewhere. Yet Gohan had never seen him with a significant other, either male or female. He didn't know for sure what Trunks wanted from their tryst or where exactly they would go from here. But he did finally know what he wanted for himself, and it did not include secret rendezvous or hidden liaisons. He already felt that he'd lived a lie with Videl, being forced to downplay his feelings for her, and he hoped Trunks wouldn't ask him to do the same thing.

If they were going to continue whatever it was they had, then he wanted it to be healthy, open, and honest, no matter the consequences. But Trunks would have to decide if he was ready for that or not, and Gohan didn't want to let things go any further until the young prince made that call.

He was all too aware of what he hoped the teen's answer would be, and he chuckled at the irony of it all. When had the other demi become such an integral part of his daily life? And, more importantly, when he had started to enjoy it?

"Excuse me."

The last thing he remembered, he had wanted to strangle the Capsule heir and now . . . . Well, now he just kinda wanted to pin the prince underneath him and get him to moan his name again the way he had the night before. Suffice it to say Gohan had learned there was a very fine line between irritation and attraction.

"Excuse me!" The demi-Saiyan was roused from his thoughts by a finger poking painfully into the back of his shoulder. When he turned around, the old lady behind him shook her giant purse.

"You plannin' on orderin' sometime today, Sonny, or would you like to get out of our way?" She gestured to the line of irritated patrons behind her and Gohan realized he must have been daydreaming.

"No! I mean, uh, yes ma'am!" He turned back to the cashier who was waiting impatiently with two hands on her hips. "Sorry," he apologized, while trying to pull off those puppy dog eyes the Saiyan prince used with so much success. The girl only crossed her arms and tapped the fingers of her right hand against her skin. Gohan sighed. "A dozen cinnamon rolls please."

***

"Well, hello there, young Mr. Son. We haven't seen you around here lately."

"Yeah, I know." The teen smiled at the conscientious doorman who greeted him as he entered his brother's building.

"It's good to see that you're fully dressed this time." The older gentleman smiled kindly at Goten and the boy's cheeks reddened a bit.

"Mmhmm," he agreed. The last time he'd been there was to borrow a pair of Gohan's shoes and the doorman had been kind enough to let him into the apartment after Goten had begged him and assured him he had Gohan's permission.

"I believe your brother's gone out for some breakfast," he informed the teen. "Offered to bring me back some coffee and donuts, too. A nice young man, that one."

"Oh, yeah, Gohan's the best." Goten smiled proudly. His older brother had always been his hero and nothing made him happier than when other people recognized the strength of character he had always known Gohan to possess.

"Would you like to have a seat and wait for him to get back?" The older man gestured at the various couches and chairs that furnished the lobby. "Shouldn't be too long."

"Aw, you can't let me in this time?" Goten frowned and the doorman made an apologetic face.

"I'm afraid Mr. Briefs'd have my head if I did that. Bit of a temper, that one." Goten chuckled at the other's apt observations, figuring he must learn a lot about the building's occupants standing there in the lobby all day long. "Last time you were here, no one was home, remember? But I can't make a habit of letting non-residents into the apartments." He winked. "Why don't I ring their rooms and see if I can get your friend for you?"

"Hmm . . ." Goten thought it over for a moment. He had been on his way home from campus when he decided to stop by Gohan's apartment. He slept over in the dorms the night before, as Gohan had requested, and he thought now would be as good a time as any for that little heart-to-heart his brother wanted to have. Although, if he was honest with himself, he wouldn't have been in nearly as big a hurry to have their chat if not for the distinct possibility that he would run into Trunks in the process. It might actually be good, he thought, that Gohan was out. It would give him a few minutes alone with Trunks. "Okay," he agreed finally.

He watched the uniformed man dial the apartment twice then hang up. "I'm sorry, but I'm not getting anyone. I'll bet your friend is still asleep. I rarely see him out this early on the weekends."

"That's true," Goten agreed, scratching his chin. "You know what? I think I'll just go see if I can find my brother." He trotted towards the door that led to the street. "Thank you!"

"Bye now!" The older man waved.

But as Goten exited the building, he had no intention of looking look for Gohan. Instead, he rounded the corner and made his way to the back of the building. Making sure no one was nearby, he soundlessly levitated towards the top floor, careful to avoid flying past any windows as he headed for the fourteenth story balcony.

***

Trunks awoke with a start. He sat up instinctively, sucking in a loud breath of air as he did so. He glanced at the sliding door, the energy signal that had awakened him unmistakable. But what the hell was_ he_ doing there? And why did the other teen's very presence unnerve him so?

As Goten touched down on the balcony, his dark eyes met his old friend's widened blue ones. It was obvious that he had surprised the prince and, as he recovered from the shock, his features settled into an unreadable expression. Goten immediately deflated under that cold cobalt gaze and tried to remind himself why he had come up here in the first place. Because he couldn't go on without this person in his life. Because he wanted to fix things, no matter what it took.

Trunks turned away from Goten and reached down alongside the bed to retrieve his underwear. He slid the shorts on before getting up and approaching the door. That was how they found themselves staring through the glass at one another again; the younger boy edgy but finding strength in his purpose and the older one stoic and impassive. Goten's mind wandered as he remembered the way Trunks used to look at him with so much feeling. He knew it was his own actions that had taken that light out of the other's eyes. But he would fix it. He had to.

The prince slid the door open. "Goten."

"Trunks." The youngest Son couldn't help but take a sweeping look at his friend. Really, he had almost forgotten so many little details about the other. Like the way he smelled and the timbre of his voice when he wasn't angry, or the way his muscles moved under that lightly tanned skin when he breathed. Even the way Trunks spoke his name; accentuating each syllable evenly. No one else could make his name sound quite like that, and he realized he missed hearing it. He also realized he should probably explain his presence there on the balcony. "I tried to call up from the lobby but I guess you didn't hear the phone."

"Oh, yeah." Trunks put a hand behind his head and scratched his scalp, seemingly at a loss for words. "I guess not."

The air was crisp and Goten wrapped his arms around himself as a light breeze picked up. He was only wearing a long sleeved t-shirt and his skin pricked up with goose bumps. "Hey, do you mind if I—?"

Trunks raised one eyebrow. "Oh, so you want to come in this time?"

Goten realized that their reunion would not be as idyllic as he had hoped. But Trunks withdrew into the room, leaving the door open, and Goten took it as an invitation to follow. He stood there awkwardly, just inside, while Trunks walked to his closet and pulled a pair of black wind pants from a hanger. Goten surveyed the room while his friend dressed. It had been some time since he had been there and he hated the way Trunks' room felt foreign to him now; the way he felt like he didn't belong, even after they had shared rooms most of their lives. He was painfully aware of the fact that he had chosen to walk away from this and that he might not ever be invited back.

The younger teen's eyes swept the bed and he blinked when he noticed the bottle of lubricant there, peeking out from under some carelessly tossed about sheets. Although the fresh air wafted in from the wide-open door behind him, he could now detect those other smells that had once been so familiar to him. The smell of sex; and not the way it smelled with Tiffany. The way it smelled with Trunks. A masculine scent. And it occurred to Goten suddenly that someone else may be there.

"Uh—I—," he stammered, "am I interrupting—?" He didn't finish the sentence, suddenly floundering at the thought that Trunks had another lover. Immediately, the younger boy chided himself for being so naive. Of course he would have found someone else. He was the campus's most eligible bachelor, after all. How could Goten have been so stupid to think he'd stay single?

But if he thought about it, he had always expected the royal demi to date. He had even told Trunks when they broke up how many people wanted to be with him. The Capsule heir was the constant object of countless girls' attention and Goten was sure that, with him out of the picture, Trunks would end up with one of them before too long. What he hadn't foreseen was that Trunks would find another boy. Another boy to do the things that they used to do. That it wasn't just a special secret thing that the two of them had shared.

The youngest Son didn't have to wonder at the churning sensation in his stomach. He knew what jealousy felt like all too well. But this wasn't the same kind he felt when people paid more attention to Trunks than him, or when Trunks got a Jag XKR for his birthday and Goten got a homemade cake. It was entirely different. He wondered who Trunks was seeing. What they had done to each other. How much Trunks had liked it and whether he panted and squirmed and gasped the other's name.

The younger boy swallowed hard. That last one really made his stomach churn. "Is—is someone here?" he asked, trying not to let the feelings show. He knew what Trunks would say. That he had no right to be upset.

The other demi pulled a white t-shirt over his head. "Just us, I think." He glanced over his shoulder at his friend. "Why?"

"Oh it's just—I mean, it's obvious that someone was here." He couldn't stop his eyes from darting towards the bed. "Recently."

"Oh. Well, yeah," he admitted, matter-of-factly. "Actually, Goten, I've been meaning to apologize to you." He turned to face the youngest Son properly. "You know that I was angry when you said we should take a break. But I've finally realized that you were completely right. Seeing what else was out there is the best thing I ever did."

"Oh." The younger boy blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah. So I'm really sorry for the way I acted towards you. Taking those shoes back and all. It was childish and I apologize."

Goten pushed his long bangs off his forehead, not sure what to make of the apology. It sounded scripted and Trunks' face was like a mask. He suddenly wished the prince would look at him with any kind of emotion at all. Anything but that detached indifference that he passed off on everyone else. It made Goten feel like a stranger on the street. But he supposed that's exactly what he was now. He suddenly felt that he shouldn't be in Trunks' bedroom. It wasn't his domain anymore and although Trunks had allowed him to come inside, he might as well have slammed the door in Goten's face. "It's okay," he muttered. "I think I'll just wait in the living room for Gohan to get home."

He quickly rounded the bed and stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him and feeling numb. He wondered if this was how Trunks felt when he had left. The thought made his heart ache. It ached for Trunks and for himself; for the loss of their innocence; and for the fact that everything between them had changed. It ached for the undeniable truth that their relationship could never be as it once was, no matter what the future held for them.

The youngest Son made his way down the hall towards the apartment's common area. As he entered the dining room, his gloomy thoughts were interrupted when he noticed Trunks' jeans in a pile near the table. He recognized them because they were the same Seven jeans he had borrowed the last night that they went out together. And the tell-tale accordion shape they took on the ground indicated that they had been dropped to the floor and stepped out of; as opposed to, say, falling out of his laundry basket on the way to the machine.

Oh god, Goten thought, he did it right there in the dining room? The youngest boy vaguely wondered where his brother had been when that happened. But as he walked further into the room, he noticed Gohan's Satan City College t-shirt on the floor not far away. Goten rounded the table and picked it up, staring at it as if it could somehow explain to him what was going on. Confused and disturbed, he tossed the shirt onto the back of the nearest chair and went to flop down on the sofa. But in the latest scene in this parade of horribles, he saw a pair of Trunks' white cotton briefs abandoned on the floor near the suede recliner.

Apparently the lovers had screwed their way across the entirety of the main room! When Goten had been with Trunks, they had been obsessively secretive, locking themselves in their bedrooms even when the house was empty, just in case. So how had Trunks been so audacious as to strip down with someone right there in the living room? And to leave his clothes scattered all over! Surely Gohan had seen them when he left to get breakfast. And why were Gohan's clothes mixed . . . in with . . . his . . . ?

No, Goten thought, shaking his head as he silently mouthed the word. No, it couldn't be! Could it? Not Trunks and . . . .

His mouth dropped open as he surveyed the scene and the unthinkable but inevitable conclusion entered his mind. He took a few shaky steps backwards before turning and racing back down the hall to his old friend's bedroom. He threw open the door without knocking just as the demi-Saiyan prince was coming out of his attached bathroom.

Goten's frantic brown eyes met the other's and Trunks recognized the look in them before Goten could even speak the words. "Who was it, Trunks?" the younger boy gestured towards the bed. "Who is he?"

He approached the prince and pushed him into the wall. His eyes were already beginning to prick with unshed tears as Trunks stared back at him, his lack of any appreciable reaction confirming Goten's suspicions. "Don't lie to me, Trunks," he warned in a desperate whisper. "Was it him?"

"Who?"

"You know who!" Goten yelled, pushing himself off the other teen with an angry grimace. He stood back a few inches. "Gohan?"

The prince continued to look him in the eyes but still refused to speak. He didn't have to. Goten already knew that it was true. He had no idea how it had happened – in what crazy, messed up world it was even possible – but he knew that it was true. "How could you?" he demanded, and both heard the sound of the front door opening then closing and several boxes of pastries being deposited on the dining room table.

The dining room table, Goten thought. Where Trunks had fucked his brother.

The true depth of the betrayal was crashing down upon him. "How could you?" he shouted, now shaking the other teen by the shoulders. "How could you do that, Trunks!?"

"I can do what I want!" The prince finally pushed the smaller boy off of him, his lavender brows narrowed defensively. "Besides, where has your dick been these past few weeks?"

"It's not the same!" Goten cried.

Gohan was in the doorway to the bedroom in a flash, still wearing his brown leather jacket and holding a set of keys. "Goten?" His tone was questioning as he took in the scene. The two boys were glaring at each other and it was the sound of their voices arguing that had drawn him to the room in the first place. "What's going on?"

The smaller Son turned his face to his brother. "You and Trunks?" His tone was accusing and his eyes begged Gohan for any answer other than the one he knew he would get. Gohan's eyes widened momentarily. He hadn't been expecting to be confronted so directly, but a quick look around the room made it clear what had happened. The sliding glass door was still open and the doorman had told Gohan that his brother came around looking for him. Obviously, Goten had tried the balcony entrance when the front lobby approach didn't work. He must have come into the room and pieced together the clues from there. Gohan hadn't really known what to expect from his brother's reaction, but he hardly expected such unconcealed disdain. It was not like Goten to be so hostile, though Gohan figured it must have come as a particular shock for him, considering all that he had been going through lately.

"Look, Goten, I know it's probably a little strange for you." His tone was soft and conciliatory. "I wish you hadn't found out this way, but it's true that Trunks and I have gotten very close in the time we've lived together. And I want you to know that I care about him very much. I'm sure it'll take some getting used to, but having your blessing would mean everything to me."

Goten wanted to cover his ears with his hands. He did NOT want to know how close they had gotten! Thanks to their clothes scattered all over the living room he already knew way too much. And now Gohan wanted his blessing? How could he possibly ask that?

"Gohan!" The disbelief that was evident in his voice made it sound like he was whining as he threw his arms out to the sides. "Would you jump into my grave as fast?"

The older demi was at a loss. "Whaddaya mean, Goten? I hope you know that I don't mean to take your place in Trunks' life. I could never do that." He put one hand over his heart. "Nothing would make me happier than for the two of you to be best friends again."

"Best friends!?" Goten's voice rose. He realized how hypocritical he would sound repeating Trunks' words from weeks ago but he couldn't stop himself. "Gohan, don't you think we were a little bit more than that?" The elder Son was silent as he waited for his brother to explain. But suddenly Goten became shy. He lowered his voice. "You know," he said, gesturing furtively. "You saw what happened on the balcony."

"Yeah," Gohan affirmed, "I saw Trunks kiss you and you pushed him away. I know he had feelings for you then and that you didn't return them. And believe me, at the time, neither one of us knew we had any feelings for each other. It's just something that's happened since then that I can't really expla—."

"THAT'S what you think happened on the balcony?" Trunks cut him off, speaking up finally. He looked incredulous as Gohan's searching eyes met his own. The oldest demi looked confused and somewhat panicky. Trunks recognized it as that look a person gets when they know that something is terribly wrong, but they don't yet know what it is. The teen blinked and lowered his eyes, looking at the floor as the disturbing thought occurred to him.

Gohan didn't know about him and Goten. He didn't know.

After a moment, he brought himself to look up at the other man hesitantly, suddenly fearing his reaction. "Uh, that's not exactly the extent of it, Gohan."

"Yeah! That's not the extent of it!" Goten piped in, sniffling.

"Would someone please clue me in right now?" the elder Son cried. "No more cryptic hinting! What the hell is going on with you guys?"

The two boys locked eyes for a second, neither wanting to be the one to explain. Then Trunks took a deep breath. "Well," he began by pointing an accusing finger at Goten. "He left me that night for that stupid girl!"

"Left you?" Gohan repeated, seemingly to himself.

"You know that I just needed some time to figure things out!" Goten yelled back at Trunks, balling his hands into fists at his sides.

"Quiet, quiet," Gohan demanded as he glanced from one boy to the other. "You two were . . . together before that night?"

The prince shrugged. "Not according to Goten," he said dismissively. "We were just 'best friends who occasionally slept together'." He made quotations with his fingers in the air.

"For—for how long?" Gohan managed and his brother considered it mutely. "Goten, how long?"

"I dunno."

"You idiot," Trunks admonished him. "We've been fooling around since we were like ten. Or have you blocked that out of your memory, too, just like everything else we've been through together?"

"Don't call me an idiot!"

"Shut up, both of you!" Gohan's voice got louder as he put two hands to his head, trying to block out the sounds of their fighting. "Just when—when were you planning on telling me about this, Trunks?" he spat between clenched teeth.

The prince was caught off guard by the way his roommate suddenly turned on him. He stuttered, "I—I thought you knew."

Gohan turned up his palms in frustration. "How would I possibly—." But his voice trailed off. Trunks had tried to tell him. After he'd seen the boys on the balcony, Trunks had offered to answer his questions, but he had assumed he knew all there was to know. When he'd asked Trunks who he was with that night after the bar, the teen had even told him it was Goten, but Gohan had blinded himself to it. Certain things were starting to fall into place now and he didn't like the picture it was painting. All of Trunks' experience. The way he had everything they had needed in his bedside drawer. The outlandish way the boys had been acting in the last few weeks.

They were lifelong lovers, and Gohan couldn't quite believe he had been such an idiot. Of course, he should have known that if Trunks wanted his brother, he would have him. Even Gohan hadn't been able to refuse Trunks, and Goten was his constant and adoring companion.

'You don't know anything about anything, Gohan.'

The prince's words rang in his head and Gohan faltered, leaning one arm against the wall to support himself. "How could you think I'd ever, EVER do what we did if I knew?" He felt bad about how crossly the words came out, but really, what had Trunks been thinking?

The prince's eyes widened. "I—I don't know—."

The elder Son turned to his brother then. "Why didn't you ever tell me, little bro?" His voice was pained and Goten only shrugged, eyes trained on the hardwood. For the millionth time in the last few weeks, Gohan regretted not having stayed closer to him after he moved out. Here Goten had been keeping this secret all these years, probably believing he was doing something wrong. And now . . . . Oh, god, now . . . .

"I'll tell you why," Trunks offered angrily, his voice growing louder as weeks of pent up misery bubbled to the surface. "Because it was all well and good when we were kids but he couldn't deal once shit got real." Although the words were supposed to be aimed at Gohan, he stared at Goten while he spoke them, his eyes finally shining with emotion.

"It was complicated." Goten pouted angrily.

"It wasn't complicated for me." Trunks retorted bitterly.

"But we're different!"

"Yeah, we are different. Because I know who I am, and you just want to be somebody else." He crossed his arms over his chest angrily. "You're such a fucking closet case, Goten."

The younger boy turned and pushed him hard. "You're so mean, Trunks!" The statement didn't even begin to express his resentment. And when the prince just rolled his eyes in response, Goten turned away from him in frustration. He couldn't match Trunks in verbal sparring so he just tried to ignore him and focused on driving away the unwelcome mental images that were burning themselves into his brain.

Trunks and his brother.

His brother and Trunks.

It just didn't make sense. "I don't understand how this could have happened," he mourned quietly.

"Well, you see, Goten, when two boys like each other very much, one boy takes his cock and shoves it—."

"Trunks!" Gohan cut him off furiously, coming to his brother's aid. It was painful to see how easy it was for the older boy to devastate him.

"I know how that works! You taught me all about it." Goten turned to face the prince again. "I was stupid enough to fall for things like 'haven't you ever thought about what it'd be like to touch each other?' and 'I'm your friend, I care about you, so why don't we fuck?'" he imitated his friend's voice scornfully. "But you must have put on one hell of a show to win Gohan over."

"Shut up, Goten," the prince warned dangerously.

"I can't even imagine what you must have said to him; what you must have done to convince him—."

"Shut up, shut up, shut UP!" the prince roared, the air around him crackling with energy.

"But what I really wanna know," the younger boy continued in spite of the other's warnings, "is why him? Why him, Trunks? A thousand people a day fall at your feet and you picked the one person you knew would hurt me. You could've had anyone you wanted and you picked him." There was only one conclusion he could come to that made any sense. "You did this on purpose."

"The last time I checked, I don't have to ask your permission. We're not together. We never were, according to you. Do you remember that? Your words, not mine. YOU left ME! Remember _that_?"

"Yes," Goten admitted quietly. "And you got the ultimate revenge, didn't you?"

Gohan suddenly felt sick. "Oh, my god." He put a hand to his mouth. Trunks wouldn't. He wouldn't go this far. Would he? He couldn't. Could he? Had Gohan let himself be used in a vengeful plan to hurt his own little brother?

The prince glanced at the other Son and could see the color draining from his already pale complexion. "No, Gohan, that's not true!" His hand shot out in a "stop" gesture, as if he could somehow stop the other man from believing it, but Gohan backed away from him, stumbling into the hallway. He couldn't listen to any more; nor could he see any reason to stay. For too long now he had been in the middle of their fight: first as a referee and now, it seemed, as a pawn. It was a fight that seemed to have been brewing for ten years, and he would leave them to finish it without him.

He put two fingers to his forehead and by the time Trunks ran into the hallway shouting his name he was already gone.

The prince turned back to the youngest boy. "Why do you insist on ruining my life?" he screamed. "First you leave and now you drive him away too! I guess breaking my heart once wasn't enough for you."

Goten wiped the tears that had sprung to his eyes on his shirt sleeve. "I'd like to break a lot more than that, you jerk."

Maybe he couldn't match Trunks verbally, but with the righteous anger that was coursing through his body on behalf of both himself and his brother, he felt sure he could beat him physically. The two boys stared each other down, jaws set, eyes narrowed. Goten's energy level had spiked to match his old friend's and the ever-growing field of static electricity between them was becoming downright dangerous.

"Fine," Trunks hissed. "You and me—."

"The rematch." Goten finished his thought.

"The old field. Now." Both boys spoke in unison and each was on the balcony before he saw the other move. They took off side by side at breakneck speed determined to settle it once and for all.

***

Goku looked up at his wife who was standing over the stove with her back to him. She clearly had not felt their son's energy spike. The pureblood focused on the signal and felt Trunks there, too. But he didn't think this was another one of their attempts to go blond just for fun. The energy was dark; darker than he thought either of those two were capable of. And they were flying towards the countryside incredibly fast. Goku concluded that whatever it meant, it couldn't be anything good.

He hated to leave without his meal, and he could smell that it would be done in a few more mouthwatering minutes. But he hated to miss a fight even more. "Chichi," he said standing up, "I'm sorry but I have to go. It's Goten. I think he needs me." He knew that she wouldn't argue with him once she heard their son's name.

She turned around to see him put two fingers to his forehead. "Goku, you be careful!" she yelled, but the room was empty.

***

Vegeta was sitting in an armchair staring at the wall when Goku appeared next to him. "So you felt it, too?"

Goku nodded. "You coming with me?" Their sons' energies seemed to have stopped moving now.

Vegeta stood up. He snorted as he turned to face Kakarott. He hated when they had to use Instant Transmission and he felt completely emasculated as he was forced to place his hand on the other Saiyan's shoulder. But he did have one consolation.

"To watch my son kick your son's ass? I wouldn't miss it."

***

The two purebloods appeared on the grassy plain shortly after their boys. Goten and Trunks were facing each other some distance away. They were no longer Super Saiyans but their power levels remained high. Although the day was still, their hair and clothes billowed in an unseen wind. Goku wasn't even sure they were aware of his and Vegeta's presence until his son spoke up.

"Oh, Dad, I'm so glad you're here." He didn't cease to stare down the other demi. "You'll never guess what Trunks did. Or should I say 'who'?"

Goten only saw a flash of sapphire eyes in his face before he felt the fist connect with his jaw. His head snapped to the side.

"Clamp it, Goten."

The younger boy held his cheek for a moment. Then he slammed a charged up palm into the other's chest and Trunks was halfway across the field before he knew the energy blast had hit him. He stood up, dusted himself off and lunged toward Goten at the same time Goten lunged at him. They met in the middle with a loud crash.

"What do you suppose they're fighting about Vegeta?" Goku asked as he watched, scratching the back of his head. He turned to face his old rival. "Hey, you know, they kinda remind me of us out there, the way they're going at it!"

"Really, Kakarott?" Vegeta made it sound more like a statement than a question as he turned to the other pureblood. "Because if I didn't know better, I'd say they were in love." An amused smirk graced the prince's features when Goku's eyes went wide. "I can't think of any other reason for two people who are normally friends to want to tear each other apart so badly."

Goku shifted. "So . . . then, uh . . . why do _we_ fight, Vegeta?"

The prince of Saiyans gasped, caught off guard by the other's unexpectedly astute comparison. "Because you're a clown!" he yelled before recovering his composure. But despite his answer, Goku took a pronounced step to the left, away from him. "Oh, please," Vegeta growled. "You can calm down Kakarott. If I was in love with you I'd have thrown you down and taken what I wanted long ago."

"Ah haha hahaha," Goku laughed nervously. "Vegeta, you're such a trip." But they both turned back to the action when the ground shook with impact. Goten had hit the dirt on his back with a loud thud and Trunks hovered over him, twenty feet in the air.

"You can't beat me, Goten. Just give it up before you get hurt." He had always been stronger thanks to his one-year advantage and now he was learning his recent training sessions with Vegeta had paid off. He was faster, more powerful, and a better strategist than Goten, and the dark-haired demi had waged a battle he couldn't win. "Here's one my dad taught me, courtesy of my future self." Trunks' hands moved quickly as Goten tried to stand up, then he put both palms out in front of him. "Burning attack!"

The younger Son crossed his forearms over his head just in time to block. He volleyed the blast back towards his opponent but Trunks disappeared before it hit him. A split second later, he materialized over his kneeling friend. "My father says that Mirai Trunks' world is a waking nightmare. But I think he's lucky. Cuz at least where he comes from, you were never born."

Goten pushed himself to his feet and smashed into his friend with roar of renewed anger. The prince flew backwards and they slammed against the jagged face of a nearby cliff. The younger boy pressed a forearm to his throat, pinning Trunks between himself and the rock wall.

"How can you say something like that?" he demanded. "I was never born there because my dad died, along with everyone else we know!"

"What do you care?" He clawed at Goten's arm. "You hate him anyway."

"And that's why you went after Gohan, isn't it? Because you knew that he was like a brother and a father to me, and you wouldn't be happy until you took away everything." The prince didn't respond to the accusations. He only stared back at Goten with darkened eyes. His hands were still clamped on Goten's arm, but he had stopped struggling. The younger boy relieved the pressure on his neck, resting both hands on the front of Trunks' shoulders. He still held the teen against the rock, but he was too emotionally exhausted to continue the fight. Goten dropped his head between his outstretched arms and stared at the ground. "But you fucked up," he whispered, shaking his head as he seemed to fight with himself internally. "Because blood is thicker than water, Trunks. I'll always love my brother." He lifted his gaze. "You're the expendable one here."

Goten saw the smallest flicker of pain on his old friend's face before it became exanimate again. "Expendable. Wow. Is that your vocabulary word for the week?"

"Fuck you."

"I just have one question. How did you forget about me so easily, Goten? After everything we shared, to just drop me like a bad habit. I guess you did learn something from your father, after all." Trunks hadn't realized just how many feelings he had been suppressing, or how much anger he'd been holding onto, until it came pouring forth like venom into helpless prey. "You seem to like to blame all of your problems on me, Goten. But it's not my fault if you don't like what you see when you look in the mirror. It's not my fault if, despite your best efforts, you grew up to be just like Goku."

The younger boy's eyes flashed with hurt and then they flashed teal. He jerked his knee up between them and Trunks felt it connect with his injured ribcage in a blinding rush of pain. He had only just begun to heal from his brutal training the day before and a searing heat ripped through him as the still-broken bones skewered internal organs.

His instinct was to cry out, but he found that he couldn't make any noise. Instead he choked on the sound and blood spattered on the pale face of his opponent. He collapsed onto Goten then, falling forward, and heard the other boy's whisper close to his ear.

"I didn't forget about you, Trunks. I thought about you every single stupid fucking day."

The prince emitted a gurgling sound and Goten felt the warmth of Trunks' blood on his neck. Then he heard his old friend gulp in air before Goku pulled the two of them apart.

"What in the world's gotten into you, Goten!?" he shouted, holding Trunks up under the arms. Then he turned to the demi-Saiyan he held onto. "Gee, Trunks, are you alright?"

"He'll be fine, Kakarott. Tend to your boy." The Saiyan prince appeared alongside his son and slid his arm around the teen's back, then hooked Trunks' left arm over his neck.

Goku looked at the other pureblood. He nodded and let go of the royal demi then approached the boy who looked like a younger version of himself. Grasping Goten's chin with his hand, he turned the teen's face to the side, examining his bloodstained skin. "C'mon son," he said sternly, after confirming that he was uninjured. "We're going home."

Goten didn't protest as Goku put a hand on his shoulder and two fingers to his own forehead. A second later, they were gone.

A short-lived silence settled over the valley.

"Really, Trunks, both of them?"

A moment ago, the demi-Saiyan hadn't thought it was possible to be any more miserable, but he should have known better. Now, not only did both of his lifelong friends hate him, but Vegeta had apparently picked up on the whole sordid business. Had he not cleaned himself off well enough? Had his father heard him arguing with Goten? Trunks spit another mouthful of blood onto the ground and didn't dare to look the royal Saiyan in the face.

"I know the oldest son of Kakarott is strong, but you're far superior to the youngest one. Still you fall to both of them. If I didn't know better, I'd think you had thrown this fight. I hope you had a good reason, boy."

The pureblood's tone indicated that the conversation was over and he wouldn't ask the teen any more questions. Trunks breathed a labored sigh of relief. It was true he had succumbed to both of his latest adversaries. He was just thankful that his father didn't know it was the case in more ways than one. As he turned to face his father, he wanted to say 'thank you' but didn't trust himself to speak. He feared he would end up confessing everything or, worse yet, start to cry.

Vegeta grunted in a way that sounded almost like understanding. Then he bent down to hook his other arm around Trunks' legs, scooping the boy up in his arms. Blue eyes widened in surprise and Trunks struggled pathetically against the embrace. "Father, I—I can walk!" He noticed that he had already stained the older Saiyan's clean blue spandex with some of his own blood and he couldn't help but think it was a metaphor for his pitiable existence; as though his father would be somehow tainted just by being near him.

"Don't be a stubborn idiot, Trunks."

It was the pot calling the kettle black, but it was his father's way of saying 'let me help you.' And the teen had little choice but to accept as the world around him began fading to black. He was quite sure he deserved the pain that Goten had inflicted, but his body couldn't handle any more and consciousness was beginning to slip away.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

His amethyst head fell heavily against the oldest Saiyan and Vegeta pressed it to his chest as he took to the sky.


	14. Chapter 14

Loregar--Thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying it :)

Hel--Your English was just fine! Thank you *so* much for everything you said. It meant a lot to me because I really put a lot of effort into characterization and things. Comments like yours make me think it's not just a big waste of time, hehe. It means a lot that you're enjoying it so much even though you don't normally like yaoi :) I hope you'll keep reading!

Don't Trust Me--Aww, you're so cute. I'd love to tell you what happens, but you'll just have to keep reading ;-P Trunks and Gohan won't have their next encounter til Chapter 15, but you are right to be anxious, hehe...

Shadowed Shinobi--Thanks so much for the comment :) I felt really bad for them, too... I felt bad for all 3 of them, but most of my other reviewers thought - like you did - that Goten was being a dick! I'm really glad you like it and I hope you'll stick with me til the end.

Chrs--I'm glad you think they're an awesome couple in this story :) I know a lot of people don't go for present Trunks and Gohan, but in the right context I think they can be great :) Whether they can work things out is yet to be seen, but I hope you'll stick around to find out!

**Chapter 14**

Gohan opened his eyes when the boys' fight was through. "Wow, they sure are angry at each other," Dende said from alongside him. They sat high above the clouds, their feet dangling over the side of the Lookout.

"Yeah," Gohan agreed.

Although they hadn't been able to see the action from where they were, both had been able to follow things well enough by sensing the power levels involved. Now they knew that the younger demis were safe in the care of their fathers. Gohan could feel Vegeta hurtling towards Capsule Corp. with a still-declining Trunks in tow. And he was aware of Goku and Goten ITing to the vicinity of the Son house. He tensed when Dende placed a green hand on his shoulder as he started to stand up.

"I don't think you should go down there yet, Gohan." The young Namek had picked up on his intense desire to go to his brother and the demi's eyes darkened when realization dawned on him.

"Of course. I guess he probably doesn't want to see me."

"It's not that, Gohan." Piccolo's voice rang authoritatively from where he'd been standing a few feet behind them.

Neither Piccolo nor Dende had asked him why he showed up at the Lookout unannounced and shaken, or why the boys were fighting. Gohan was always vaguely aware that Piccolo watched over him and he had long ago gotten over his shyness at the idea. The upside of hanging out with the Guardians of the Earth was that you didn't ever have to explain anything.

"Your instincts were right when you came here. They need to finish working this out on their own." But what the tall Namekian didn't say was that he was also worried about Gohan. As long as Trunks and Goten were bent on hurting each other, he was bound to be their unintended victim. In response to Gohan's questioning eyes, Piccolo shook his head, his expression assuring his protégé that he knew what was best.

"Well, okay," the demi agreed reluctantly with one last glance over the side of the enormous platform. He was worried about Goten, but Goku was with him and he supposed it couldn't hurt to let things cool off for a bit. "I guess I could lay low here for a while. That is, if you don't mind me hanging around."

"Of course not, Gohan!" Dende put one arm around his childhood friend. It was always a pleasure for Dende to see him, even though – more often than not – they met under disastrous circumstances. "Mr. Popo's just finished preparing lunch and, considering Piccolo and I don't even eat, I was really hoping you'd join us."

"That'd be nice, Dende." He accepted the invitation to spend some time with his old friends despite the fact that the last thing he wanted to do was eat. Their calmness was comforting, and here he could clear his thoughts, sort out his feelings, and decide what – if anything – he could do to make things right again.

***

_"Let's go to bed, Trunks. I'm sleepy."_

_"'Kay." The royal demi pushed away an enormous bowl that, ten-minutes ago, had been filled with ice cream. Both boys yawned and stretched before getting up from the table and dragging themselves up the stairs. They'd had a long day of exploring in the woods near Goten's house. And when they flew back to Capsule, expecting a big dinner and a nap, they found a keyed-up Vegeta who had other plans. They had fused no less than six times while sparring with him. And, even though SSJ3 Gotenks looked like the sure victor by the last round, the fusion always seemed to wear off just before they could finish the job. And once they separated, they were no match for the Saiyan prince at all._

_"Your dad's a total maniac," Goten said as they slipped under the covers in the Capsule heir's room. _

_"Tell me about it." Trunks' eyes were already drooping closed by the time he settled his face into the comfortable crook of Goten's neck. "It was fun to fuse, though." They hadn't done it since soon after Majin Buu was destroyed five years before. He placed a kiss on the familiar-smelling skin in front of him._

_"Hey." Goten sat up and put a hand to his neck where the lips had just been. "What was that for?"_

_The other boy shrugged. "I dunno," he said honestly. He supposed he was just feeling close to Goten after a full afternoon of being the same person. "Sorry."_

_After a moment, the younger demi settled back into bed alongside him, propping his head up on his hand. Goten stared at his friend breifly before leaning down to touch their lips together. They hadn't done _that_ in five years either. And it felt a whole lot different this time. For both of them it was their first kiss, but it felt natural enough that they knew what to do. _

_Trunks opened his mouth and Goten's tongue slipped inside. It was still cold from the ice cream, but his lips were warm. It was a sensation the lavender-haired boy would not soon forget._

_"Trunks." The youngest Son pulled away after a minute, a bit breathless. "This is making me feel funny. Like, in my stomach and . . . stuff."_

_Trunks smiled drowsily and reached down in between them to touch the front of his friend's pants. "I think that means you like it, Goten."_

***

The demi-Saiyan prince stirred as he became aware of the warm, gel-like substance swirling around him. He could hear the muffled sound of machinery running and breathed in fresh air from the mask that covered his nose and mouth. There was no pain, and he vaguely realized he was in the regeneration tank, though he couldn't remember why. Eyelids fluttered as the teen fought for consciousness and lost.

***

"Are you mad at me, Dad?"

Goten watched his father kneel on the bank of the lake at Mount Paozu. Goku had taken the teen's shirt and was trying to scrub the stains out of it in the frigid water. He had long ago learned that Chichi didn't take kindly to blood-soaked clothing in the hamper. As per his father's instructions, Goten also splashed some of the water onto his naked torso, rubbing away whatever evidence of the fight still remained on his skin.

"No, not mad, Goten." The pureblood rubbed the fabric rapidly between his fists. "Just disappointed, son."

After he finished cleaning himself Goten sat back on his heels and looked at his father.

"I taught you better than to attack an opponent when he's not fighting back. It's just bad form."

The teen scoffed. "But, Dad, it's not an opponent! It's Trunks!"

"It's even more important to be at your best when you're facing a friend."

Goten rolled onto his back in the grass and spread his arms and legs out in exasperation. Training advice was the last thing he needed from his father and the only thing he ever got, from the moment he had met Goku until now. "Anyway," he sighed, "he didn't fight back cuz knew he deserved it."

"Now, son," his father admonished gently. "No one deserves a surprise attack."

"Ugh!" Goten buried his fists in his hair. "You have no idea, Dad! You can't even begin to understand what he did." Goku turned his head and looked quizzically at his son and Goten realized he was waiting for him to elaborate. But as much as the teen wanted his dad's help, he found himself at a loss as he stared into those wide, unwavering eyes. He wondered when it was that his relationship with Trunks had gone from being an exciting secret to something that was just too horrible to say aloud. "He really hurt me," the teen concluded lamely, turning his eyes back to the sky. In his mind, he drifted again to the events of that heartbreaking morning. "And he said the most awful things."

"Like what?"

Goten sat partway up, supporting himself with his hands on the ground behind him. "He said he wished he lived in Mirai Trunks' world because of the fact that I was never born there."

Goku made a face at the thought that Trunks would joke about such a thing. He could only conclude that the teen had been speaking foolishly in anger. "He wouldn't say that if he had any idea what it was like where Mirai came from." The pureblood turned back to his task and the sounds of his fists splashing around in the water resumed.

"He also said that I was just like you," Goten admitted, watching his father's silhouette closely.

The older man stopped his movements again and wondered how the comparison could have made Goten angry enough to lash out at his own best friend. Was it possible that Goten so detested the idea of being like him? Goku glanced at his son again. "What did he mean by that?"

"He said that I dropped him like a bad habit and that made me just like you."

The teen waited to see what Goku would say in his own defense. Gohan and Chichi had made countless excuses for his long absences over the years when Goten had prodded them. But he'd never confronted his father directly. The earth's savior still seemed larger-than-life to him; almost untouchable in that peculiar way that celebrities are. But at this point, Goten figured he didn't have much left to lose. And while he was coming to terms with his feelings, Goku might as well come to terms with them, too.

"Well . . . ." The pureblood faltered as he suddenly realized just what his son apparently thought of him. "I'm sure you guys will make up," he said quietly. "It's . . . just a fight. Boys'll be boys, I guess."

"Yeah."

Uncomfortable silence reigned until Goku stood up and wrung out the shirt before turning towards home. "I'll see you at the house, Goten." With that, he walked away, the t-shirt he still held leaving a trail of wet droplets in its wake.

The demi-Saiyan took a deep breath as he lay back on the ground. He could feel the last of the warm tears he'd been holding back cut watery paths down his temples and into his hair. Whether Trunks had done it on purpose or not, one thing was for sure. He felt more alone than he ever had in his life.

***

_"I can't believe Chichi made you wear that on the first day of high school. How does she expect you to make any friends?"_

_"What's wrong with it?" Goten asked as the boys walked side-by-side after meeting up when their respective schools let out. He glanced down at the khaki pants and dress shirt he wore with a pair of scuffed loafers that were Gohan's hand-me-downs, a vest, and a bowtie. _

_"For starters, you look like a waiter at a really lame restaurant."_

_"Take it back! I do not!" Trunks held his arms up to fend off Goten's playful blows._

_"You gotta stop letting your mom pick out your clothes, Goten. When we get back to Capsule we'll raid my closet."_

_"Oh, I can't," the other's face fell. "Mom made me get a job at some place called Burgertown. I'm supposed to work there every day after school."_

_Trunks gasped in annoyance. "Well, that really screws up my afternoon plans!" _

_"Sorry," his friend shrugged helplessly._

_But Trunks crossed his arms and lavender brows furrowed. "Just let me think for a minute. There's got to be a way to get out of this." _

_Soon they were approaching Capsule Corp. and the young teens could see Bulma on her back on the ground, the upper half of her body hidden beneath the outdoor gravity chamber. Trunks leaned in close to the younger boy. "Alright," he whispered, "just follow my lead." _

_Trunks skipped up to the gravity machine. "Hi, Mother!" he called out. "I had the best first day at school today! I hope you have time for a long story because it all started in homeroom when we found out that Naoki got a new car over the summer. He's the oldest person in our class and he just turned sixteen. So of course everyone was sucking up to him to try to get a ride home, but I didn't because I wanted to walk with Goten anyway. Besides, I'll be sixteen soon, and then I'll have my own car. Right, Mom?" He paused for only a second. "Anyway, on my way to homeroom I saw some upperclassmen picking on a freshman so I stepped in on his behalf. You know, took him under my wing and all. And by lunch time, we—." _

_"Trunks!" She half-shouted his name as she dragged herself out from underneath the machine and he shot her a hurt look. "I'm sorry, hon, I really want to hear about it but I'm very busy right now. Your father insists that I fix this thing and I have a ton of my own work to do this afternoon, too."_

_"This is cool!" Goten exclaimed, picking up a delicate-looking tool from the ground alongside the blue-haired woman. "What's this for, Bulma? Pounding nails or something?" He pulled his arm back as if he planned to hit the side of the gravity chamber with it._

_"NO!" She threw her arms up to block him. "That's a very fragile diamond-tipped cutting tool, Goten. You don't want to—."_

_"Oh, okay," he put it down and grabbed another. "What's this one?"_

_"Look, boys." She reached into her pocket. "Here's twenty zeni. Go see a movie or something."_

_"Cool, thanks mom!" They trotted towards the house and Trunks' eyes sparkled as he closed the front door behind them, holding up the money. "If we do that every day, and you just take the cash home, Chichi'll think you're working. It'll be like it's your job to hang out with me!"_

_"This is so perfect!" Goten giggled, taking his friend's hands as they performed a short victory dance. "Hey, but wait. What if Burgertown calls my house when I don't show up?"_

_"Hmm." The two stopped spinning and Trunks pulled out a cell phone. He winked at Goten. "Uh, hi, Burgertown?" he asked in as deep a voice as he could manage. "This is Son Goku calling. My boy Goten won't be coming in today. Actually, uh, he quits. And he has his mother's full permission. So don't bother calling her. Okay, bye!"_

_And it had lasted an entire week before Gohan busted them._

***

Vegeta watched his son twitch in suspended animation. A barely visible smile crept over the boy's features and he knew the teen was dreaming. His vital signs were getting stronger and his heart was actually beating quite fast. Trunks took a few labored breaths and bubbles rose through the gelatinous solution around him. The royal Saiyan was aware of his own shoulders relaxing as he watched the monitor that reported his son's condition. But the sense of relief did not last long.

"Oh. My. God." Bulma's shrill voice rang out from behind him. "What have you done to my baby!?"

The prince closed his eyes, annoyed that the regeneration tanks were located in Bulma's private lab. He would much have preferred keeping her out of the picture until Trunks was healed. But, unfortunately, she never stayed away from the lab for long. Now she stood in the doorway, taking in the view of her son's unconscious body floating in a gelatinous solution of Saiyan DNA. His clothes were lying nearby on the floor and she did not fail to notice the wide, vertical stripe of fresh blood decorating the front of the shirt.

She marched in the direction of the tanks. "I told you not to train him so hard, Vegeta! It's not like the earth is under attack. You're just bored and you take it out on Trunks!"

"I didn't do it," Vegeta stated calmly, opening dark chocolate eyes again as she neared.

"Is this about your stupid rivalry with Goku? Because that's your burden to bear, not the kids' and I won't have you breaking every bone in his body until he's stronger than Gohan. It's just plain crazy—."

"Bulma!" The pureblood's voice was louder this time as he turned to face her. "I said that I didn't do it."

It had the intended effect of quieting her momentarily. "Well, what happened?" Her brow creased in worry as she looked away from her longtime companion and back to the regeneration tank. "Will he be alright?"

"He'll be fine in a few hours." Vegeta hoped the promise would be enough to calm her because they seriously needed to talk. His voice took on a more somber tone as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Listen, Bulma, has he ever said anything to you about Kakarott's youngest boy?"

"Well, sure. We talk about Goten all the time, Vegeta. I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific."

He craned his neck in her direction with a knowing look on his face. "Specifically about the nature of their so-called friendship?"

"Alright, alright. I know what you're getting at and the answer is no. I've had my suspicions, too, but if there's anything to tell, he'll come to us when he's ready. Until then, it's none of our business." She lifted her nose to indicate that the conversation was over. "And if you have a problem with it, you can just keep it to yourself. I don't want you making him feel bad!"

"For gods' sake, Woman, I could care less what the two of them do!" he retorted defensively. "But would you think it was our business if I told you that Kakarott's boy is the one who put him in this condition?" He thought it unimportant to mention the fact that Trunks could have brushed off Goten's attack if only Vegeta hadn't broken his ribs the day before.

"No way!" Bulma's blue eyes widened with shock. "I knew they weren't getting along lately, but . . . . Wow."

The Prince grunted at the mention of their apparent bickering. "If you ask me, the problem is that these kids have nothing else to do but fight with each other. They need something more important to focus on than their own petty squabbles. They've been far too pampered for far too long."

"Oh and I suppose they'd be better off if Planet Vegeta was never destroyed and they spent their whole lives conquering faraway galaxies and destroying their helpless inhabitants?" she quipped.

"A boy needs a hobby."

Bulma sighed. "Well, what are we going to do? Should I have a talk with Goku and Chichi about it?"

"No," he said without hesitation. Then he scratched his chin thoughtfully. Bulma waited as patiently as she could for him to clue her in to whatever he was thinking. But it seemed the Saiyan prince had already forgotten she was there.

"Well, as long as he's going to be okay, I guess I'll get back to work then."

"Hn." Vegeta acknowledged the announcement distractedly, walking up to the DNA pod and resting a hand on its cold metal surface. He leaned forward on his palm, watching the dozing teen and Bulma didn't bother to hide a sentimental smile. For as much as Vegeta reprimanded her for coddling Trunks, she knew she wasn't the only one of his parents in whose eyes he was everything.

***

Goten picked up a flat, purplish stone from the edge of the lakebed. He held it in his hand a moment, letting the sunlight that it had absorbed warm his palm. Then he tossed it sideways and watched it skip across the lake. It hopped on the water and landed with a barely audible clunk on the other side. He looked on as the resulting ripples faded and, when the lake was smooth as a piece of glass again, he picked up another stone.

He had been hypnotized enough by the repetitive task that he didn't even feel his brother approaching until Gohan landed soundlessly on the grass a few feet away. Goten looked up and their eyes met for a brief moment.

"Thought you might want this." The older demi held out a red hooded sweatshirt, which his brother gratefully accepted. Goten hadn't bothered to go back to the house after Goku left, even though he was shirtless and had to be freezing. And when it became apparent to Gohan that the teen wasn't accepting their father's help, he had blown off the guardians' advice and insisted on seeing his brother.

"Piccolo?" Goten asked, staring at the large symbol on the back before pulling it over his head.

Gohan smiled. "It's not designer, but he can materialize some decent quality stuff."

"It's warm," Goten agreed before an uneasy quiet settled over the valley again.

"Goten, I'm so sorry," the eldest Son began, though he didn't really know where to start the apologies. He was sorry for being so dense and failing to notice the clear signs that Trunks and Goten were more than just friends. He was sorry he didn't know how much Goten was struggling to come to terms with it, and that he wasn't there to help. Then there was, of course, the obvious . . . .

He looked away to hide the inevitable pinkness that colored his cheeks when he thought of the things he and Trunks had done. "For everything that's happened," he finished tactfully.

"It's not your fault, Gohan."

"Yes," he stressed the words, "it is." In the hours he'd had to ponder their situation since that morning, Gohan realized he couldn't let Trunks take all the blame, even if the prince _had_ been out for revenge. Whatever the teenager's intentions were, Gohan should have known better than to let things go so far. Trunks was still very young, and he was on the rebound. From the very beginning, it had been apparent that he was trying too hard to move on, was misdirecting his feelings, and was one stop away from an emotional train wreck. Now that the eldest Son had learned the true depth of the boys' relationship, he could see just how badly Trunks must have been wounded by their parting. And in hindsight he couldn't believe he'd given in so easily to the misguided desires of a teenager, no matter how genuine they had appeared.

"Oh, come on, Gohan," Goten challenged, confident in his knowledge, gained over eighteen years of friendship, of the way Trunks worked. "Tell me he didn't manipulate you from the very beginning."

Gohan opened his mouth to disagree, but he couldn't deny that Trunks had tried every possible way to get closer to him, to get his attention, and gain his favor. He had talked Gohan into sharing a bed, appealed to his desire to get over Videl, and even tried expensive gifts. But in recent days, he had seemed so different. Though Gohan couldn't help but wonder now if the prince had simply learned a better way to get to him. After all, Trunks had pushed him, studied him, learned what made him tick. And, like any good businessman, he knew how to play vulnerabilities to his advantage.

"Thought so," Goten concluded.

"No, wait." The older demi shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. "I think I know what you're doing, Goten, but you can't just demonize Trunks so that you won't have to be mad at me." Although the thought of losing Goten's respect was devastating to him, Gohan thought it was about time they all stopped building psychological walls to avoid dealing with their feelings. But the look on Goten's face told him it was an illusion he didn't want to let go of.

"Goten, listen to me." By now he was close enough to put his hands on his brother's arms, holding onto him by the shoulders. "I'm not perfect. I make bad decisions, too. All the time, in fact. You have to recognize that, okay? Because I don't want you to make the same mistakes that I have. Especially when it comes to relationships. Do you understand what I'm saying, Goten?"

The younger boy looked unsure, but nodded hesitantly. Gohan held onto him for a long moment before letting go and motioning for his brother to sit down. They both settled onto the bank and Goten had created a sizeable mountain of pulled-out grass before Gohan brought himself to ask the question on which everything depended.

"So, why did you leave, then, Goten? Don't you love him?"

The teen played with the strings on his hoodie for a moment. It occurred to him that their entire downward spiral had started with that question. He wished now like he'd wished then that there was an easy answer. He could remember a time when it had felt easy. When leaning on each other was the only way they knew to survive. When Trunks was the only one he could see and before doubt made him question what once felt so natural.

When all the happiness in the world was wrapped up in three little words.

'You and me.'

And before those other three words had even entered their vocabulary.

But all that seemed far away now. And he was no more sure how to respond to the question than he had been the day he gave Trunks the scripted answer he knew he wanted.

"What does love feel like, Gohan?"

"Well, it's different things to different people." The older demi pondered it a moment wondering if he could put the sentiment into words. "Mostly I think it's when everything you do is more exciting because of the person next to you. And that person is the first one you run to with good news, and the first one you turn to when it's bad. Real love, it . . . reinvents you. Makes you want to be a better person."

"Does it ever make you feel like," Goten gestured demonstratively while searching for the right words, "like your heart's been ripped out of your chest and you're forced to function with nothing inside? Like the further you get from that other person, the more empty you feel?"

Gohan had to smile regretfully at his brother's honest description. "Sometimes," he nodded. "That's the other side of it, I guess."

"I know I messed up when I left, Gohan," the younger boy admitted quietly. "But things were just getting so intense. And Trunks, god, he can be so . . . demanding. I couldn't give him what he wanted and I felt like I was lying to him. I just needed a break, ya know? Because there was only ever _us_," he insisted, hoping to make his brother understand. "And I wanted to be me. To find out who I am without him."

"Goten, I think you already know who you are. What I don't understand is why you fight it so hard. Don't you see, little bro? It's okay if Trunks is a part of you. It doesn't mean you're any less you."

The impact that the statement had was reflected in the teenager's blinking eyes and Gohan realized just how much value the younger demi put in his opinion. It only underscored how easily they might have averted disaster if only they'd talked sooner. Still, as Goten digested his brother's words, Gohan looked at him with some measure of hope. The two teenagers were resilient, and he was convinced now that they had all they needed to recover from this, if only they could be in the same room long enough to acknowledge it. And if being with Trunks could make Goten happy, then that was what Gohan wanted. His own feelings for the royal demi, whatever they had been, could stay locked away in that tiny little box. And as he reached out to help his brother up from the ground he swore that this time he really would throw away the key.

***

_Trunks remembered finding Goten after the competition had ended sitting on a bench between two rows of lockers. The dark-haired demi was listless, feet planted on the floor and fingers wrapped around the front of the bench on either side of him. He stared at his shoes. _

_Keeping a close eye on his friend, Trunks began to change from his gi into street clothes. "Man," he said tentatively, "I thought with your dad out of the tournament one of us might have a shot at winning but I guess Vegeta can still kick our asses, huh?"_

_Goten made a short sound like a half-hearted laugh. "Yeah."_

"_Anyway, you wanna go out tonight? It looks like there's a pretty decent scene in this town—."_

"_I probably better go home."_

"_Oh." Trunks couldn't help but think of what a nightmare it would be at the Son residence tonight. "Are you sure? I mean, your mom's got Gohan to look after her and . . . Gohan's got Videl. Why don't you come stay over at Capsule?"_

"_Maybe." The younger boy sounded distracted. Trunks didn't know what else to say, so he turned away and shoved his thoroughly destroyed gi into a gym bag before retrieving a clean outfit from his locker. _

_Goten's quiet voice interrupted him as he was buttoning his trousers. "Do you think that . . . maybe . . . if I had spent more time training, he would have stayed, Trunks? I mean if I hadn't goofed off so much and was a better student—."_

"_Stop, Goten." The prince's voice was surprised but stern. "You can't blame yourself for his decisions. You're not his student, you're his son. You're _supposed_ to goof off!" But the forlorn expression that still marred Goten's usually exuberant features made it clear he had his doubts. The prince closed the gap between them and sat on the bench next to his best friend. "It's just the way he is, Goten. He sees a challenge and needs to go after it. It's not personal." _

"_But . . . it should be. Shouldn't it?" _

_The younger teen didn't look up from the floor and Trunks was happy that he was spared seeing the hurt that would have been written all over his face. He hardly ever saw the youngest Son without a smile, and as he watched clear droplets accumulate on those long, dark lashes, dripping to the floor when Goten blinked, he knew he would have dragged Goku back kicking and screaming by himself if he could. But all he could do was wrap both arms around the other boy and beg. _

"_I hate it when you cry, Goten. Please, please don't cry."_

_The dark-haired demi did his best to hide the sounds, but his trembling shoulders gave him away. "He loves you," the prince promised, with as much conviction as he could muster._

"_No, Trunks, he doesn't. I don't think he knows how to." _

_"Well . . . I love you, Goten," he responded quietly. "So, who needs him anyway?"_

_His friend's head turned and brown eyes searched Trunks' face at close range. "Do you mean it?"_

_The teen prince nodded and Goten kissed him then, holding onto him with one hand fisted in lavender hair. It was a desperate kiss and as it deepened, Trunks could taste the salty tears that had fallen from his best friend's eyes and down his pale cheeks. He just kept repeating the confession between sloppy kisses. "I love you, Goten. I love you." Then he leaned back to push his friend's wild black hair off his face. "Don't you love me?"_

"_Yes," the other managed to sniffle before they pulled apart at the sound of approaching footsteps._

"_Then stop crying, would ya?" Trunks joked anxiously. "Listen, you don't have to go home tonight if you don't want to. Stay with me at Capsule, okay? Stay with me, Goten." _

Stay with me.

Azure eyes opened slowly.

Memories of their relationship flooded his mind as though his brain was subconsciously mourning its passing. All the things he hadn't allowed himself to remember, all the feelings he had refused to acknowledge for weeks now assaulted his senses; Trunks being unable to ignore them any longer. His defense mechanisms had begun to fail when he found himself face to face with Goten that morning. Bombarded from the inside by the unanswered questions, insecurities, and loneliness the other boy had left him to deal with, he had cracked. And all the lofty ideals he had about them being friends again went out the window in that split second.

The images of their life together faded away now, along with the liquid that was draining through the bottom of the regeneration tank, until cold reality was all that remained. Gohan had been right when he warned Trunks against trying to replace Goten. The happiness he had found with the elder Son couldn't heal the wounds left by his brother. He had wanted Gohan to make him whole again, but Gohan deserved more than just what was left of him when Goten was through. And he knew now what Gohan had meant when he talked about not being ready; not having enough left to give. What Trunks didn't realize then was that he was in the exact same broken state. And where they were now was the inevitable result of his refusing to take no for an answer, his having pushed for too much too fast. As it stood, he had hurt both brothers and there was little chance of getting either closure from Goten or a second look from Gohan now.

Trunks shivered and his father passed him a towel. He used it to wipe his face and hair before standing up and wrapping it around his waist. Shakily, he stepped out of the pod and the liquid that remained on his skin began pooling into ever-growing puddles at his feet.

"We need to talk, son."

Trunks swallowed. Something in Vegeta's tone gave him a good idea what this conversation would be about.

"Tell me what's going on between you and Kakarott's youngest one." And the prince added pointedly, "Don't lie."

Trunks supposed he'd always known this moment would come. But for all the times he had insisted he was confident about his sexual identity, he felt like a pathetic, hypocritical coward at the moment. What if Vegeta hated him? What if he was disappointed? Trunks' only aspiration in life was to make his father proud and right now he couldn't help but feel as though he'd been born to fail.

His blood rushed in his ears and he let out the breath he now realized he'd been holding. When it came right down to it, it seemed he really was no better than Goten. He was terrified to speak the words.

"Out with it, Trunks." Vegeta didn't beat around the bush.

The teen squared his shoulders and met his father's eyes, readying himself to face the consequences. He only hoped that, if Vegeta responded negatively, it would be with his fists and not merely quiet contempt. The former, Trunks thought he could handle; the latter, he knew he could not.

"We were . . . best friends, Dad. With benefits, I guess you could say."

"_Were?_"

"Not anymore," he absently ran the fingers of his right hand over his ribs on the left side. "Obviously."

"Hn." Vegeta paced from left to right then back again. "It's as I suspected then. You were lovers," he concluded, and Trunks was surprised that his tone was somewhere between indifferent and amused. "Damn, I should have talked Kakarott into a wager."

Trunks couldn't suppress an offended gasp. He and Goten had always been so careful. And surely Vegeta couldn't have picked up on everything that was going on from just one fight. "Wha—?" the demi-Saiyan began. "Is it that obvious!?"

"I know my own son, Trunks."

The teen closed his mouth, thinking that he should probably just be thankful the announcement had gone over so well. Even if his dad did just practically call him flaming.

"You know that I met you—or, a version of you—before you were even conceived here in our time, don't you?"

"Huh?" The sudden apparent change of subject confused him. "Uh—yeah, of course," he managed. Bulma had told him the whole story of Mirai Trunks' time with the Z-fighters when she thought he was old enough. And his father had even taught him a few of the time traveler's best fighting moves.

"We spent an entire year locked in that Time Chamber together. And even though he thought I paid no attention to him, I saw enough to eventually realize that he was . . . was in love with his late master. Gohan," Vegeta specified, with a quick glance at his son. "It only makes sense that, in this dimension, you and Goten might have a similar relationship."

So Vegeta had known all along! The teen blinked in amazement. And his future self was in love with Gohan? Trunks realized he really did envy Mirai. At least for him, the choice had been easy. His father's voice drew him out of his thoughts again.

"I'm not proud to admit that learning that about Mirai was part of the reason I treated him so badly even after I found out he was my son," Vegeta admitted gravely. "But then, when he was killed by Cell . . . ."

The Saiyan prince trailed off, but Trunks knew the tale by heart. Bulma had sugarcoated some of the less pleasant parts, but the Z-fighters loved to reminisce about the old days whenever they got together, and he had pieced together most of the details over the years. The story went that Vegeta flew off the handle when Mirai died, recklessly attacking the super android though he knew it was an exercise in futility.

"That type of loss makes you realize how ridiculous it is to let such nonsense come between you and your only son," Vegeta finished solemnly. "It's probably because of him that I've been any kind of father to you at all. And I'm grateful to him for that."

The demi-Saiyan just stared at the prince. Vegeta maintained his regal air of aloofness but Trunks could hear the conviction in his words. He blinked when his father put a hand on his shoulder as he stood there, naked as the day he was born save for the towel he held at his waist.

"I probably don't tell you enough how proud I am of you, Trunks. But I don't know where you ever got it in your head that you let me down. Burning myself to a crisp when you were a child was the best way I could think of to tell you that I loved you. And for gods' sake, boy, it should have been enough!" he insisted. "It didn't tickle you know."

The teen could no longer hold at bay the rising sea of contradictory emotions that threatened to destroy the last of his composure. An overwhelming sense of relief clashed with profound feelings of loss, and he couldn't have pinned down the cause of the tears in his blue eyes right then. His father was so close, and for the second time that day, he fell against the older Saiyan, clinging to his only remaining ally.

"Dad," he whispered, his head bowed over the other's shoulder, "you can't imagine how I've screwed up. Goten, Gohan . . . they'll never forgive me."

The pureblood didn't retreat from the awkward embrace. Far from being affronted by the display of emotion, Vegeta knew that for both he and Trunks, it was their passion that made them great warriors. The teenager hadn't yet learned how to direct his stronger feelings and the pureblood made a mental note to start him on an ultra-intense mind and body training regimen once all this nonsense got worked out. But for the time being, he just wrapped one arm around his son's back.

"Trunks, if there's one thing I've learned, it's that it's never too late to make up for your mistakes. I've personally attempted to kill Kakarott about a half dozen times. And that brainy kid of his, too. Believe me when I tell you, it is not in that family's DNA to hold a grudge. They don't think like we do, son." He snorted. "That's why they can ride on that damned yellow cloud and we can't."

Trunks let out a short laugh in spite of himself. With a hint of that old sparkle in his eye, he leaned back from his father. "I thought you couldn't ride it on account of all those civilizations you ruthlessly destroyed."

"Smartass."

"Dad . . . ." Trunks' tone was entirely serious this time. There was so much he wanted to say. "Dad, I—."

"I know, son." Vegeta squeezed his shoulder before letting go, his dark eyes softer than Trunks had seen them before. He tried to memorize the image, knowing it wouldn't last long. "Now go and get cleaned up. We'll have dinner with your mother in a few hours."

The teen nodded, turned, and strode out of the lab pulling the towel from around his waist and using it to dry the last of his tears. In his cathartic haze of gratitude, he barely noticed the surprised yelp of one of his mother's assistants, who pressed herself to the wall, red-faced and staring as he passed.

The pureblood watched his son go but didn't follow. Before dinner, Vegeta had a few errands to run. He closed his eyes and focused. When he located the demi-Saiyan he was looking for, he pushed through the heavy double doors that led outside and took off in his direction.


	15. Chapter 15

chrs and hel14--Thanks for sticking around ;-) and thanks for your compliments. I hope you'll be satisfied in the end.

Don't Trust Me--LOL about shipping Truten like it's your job :D I like that. The purpose of the flashbacks was not to confuse the hell out of you, but to highlight both of their vulnerabilities as a result of their relationship and show why it wasn't all that easy to move on. Also to show how much Trunks's comments in Chapter 13 would have hurt Goten, as well as the fact that their relationship was very codependent. I wish that I would have developed it a bit earlier on, but since I didn't, you get flashbacks :-P Sorry if they messed with your head. I'm glad you thought Gohan's speech was sage and that you enjoyed Goten's little chat with Goku, heheh. I'm not a huge fan of him either. As far as Vegeta, while I appreciate concrit and usually try to use it to improve my writing, I can't agree that he is OC in the last chapter. I think he's very emotional in the anime. Much, much moreso than Goku. It can be seen on planet Namek when he's dying and telling the story of his life with Frieza. And we already know that his relationship with Present Trunks is different as a result of his interraction with Mirai. I only added an extra detail. Plus we can see just how much Vegeta loves Trunks (and Bulma...and even Kakarot, lol) when he sacrifices himself to kill Buu. All in all I think he grudgingly shows emotion throughout DBZ, especially towards the end. But that's just my opinion. I could be wrong. But that is why I write him this way :) I'm glad you've enjoyed him so far. And don't worry, he's back to his usual self in this chapter :-P

**Chapter 15**

Trunks returned to the apartment he shared with Gohan on Sunday evening after dinner with his parents. It was clear that Vegeta had filled Bulma in on their little father-son chat because she looked at him all through dinner with concern and sympathy, gave his arm a reassuring squeeze every time she passed by, and repeatedly promised that she loved him 'no matter what.' And even though he had answered with an embarrassed 'Mother, stop,' in reality his parents' support meant a lot. Bulma had suggested that the teen stay at Capsule Corp. for awhile, but he wanted to go back home. He couldn't just curl up and sulk while his mommy took care of him forever. He was a grown man after all.

Besides, what if Gohan came back?

But by Thursday night, there was still no sign of his roommate. And with each passing day, the royal demi's hope of making amends dwindled. He could have sought Gohan out, and the thought had crossed his mind many times during the week. There were only so many places the other man could be. But Trunks knew that if Gohan hadn't come home, it was with good reason. The elder Son wasn't the type to hide from his problems, so his absence could only mean one thing: that he decidedly did not wish to see the teen prince.

Trunks had thought about cornering his roommate at Capsule Corp., too, but he just didn't have the energy anymore. It felt like he had been running at full speed for weeks. First, running away from his problems with Goten, and then running straight into new ones. Now everything had caught up with him and he was just plain tired.

Tired and alone.

The silence of the empty apartment was deafening and it had tormented him for the last four days. It gave him no choice but to reflect and face truths he should have faced weeks ago. Before their fight, Trunks had done everything in his power to avoid admitting that his world came unglued when Goten left. And the desire to fill the void his absence created had rendered nothing off limits; least of all Gohan. But Trunks had never considered how his actions might affect the two brothers. And even though his roommate had become so much more than just a convenient distraction, the teen's own recklessness had likely doomed them before they had a chance to begin.

As for the younger Son, when Trunks thought about him now, it was with cynical resignation. What lay ahead of them was a daunting uphill road to recovery. Each would have to pick up the pieces of his life and put himself back together.

Separately.

Two distinct and unconnected individuals where a strong unit had once been.

Goten would have his wish of individuality fulfilled but at what cost? Trunks wondered. He doubted if the two of them would ever be friends again. Still, he couldn't help but feel that the road would be easier for Goten somehow. He'd already found someone new to help him down that path. The demi-Saiyan prince, on the other hand, wasn't sure he would ever find his way. A lifetime of memories shared with the youngest Son that had once defined him now held him back; stopped him from being able to make the commitment he wanted to make to Gohan. That he needed to make if there was ever to be any chance for them.

The first cut was deep, it seemed, and he resented his old friend for leaving him stuck in this prison; unwilling to go back yet unable to move on.

As for the two brothers, Trunks was sure they had repaired their relationship by now. He imagined them comforting each other by mutually agreeing on what an insufferable bastard he was. Neither one had made any attempt to contact him and so, if the last week had been any indication, it looked like he really was the expendable one.

The teen slumped over the papers that were strewn about the dining room table and read the same sentence for what must have been the millionth time. Tomorrow he was supposed to make his presentation to Capsule's would-be investors and it was too late to ask someone else to cover it. He had spent weeks becoming familiar with the numbers and projections regarding the company's proposed research. It would be difficult for someone less familiar with it to answer the questions he was sure the venture capitalists would have.

In truth, it was good to have something to take his mind off recent events, but his inability to concentrate was frustrating. His first mistake had been choosing this particular chair at the table. The last time he was in it, he'd been straddling his roommate. And yes, the empty apartment had left him with plenty of time to think about i_that_/i, too. Trunks leaned back in the chair and shoved his hips toward the front with an exasperated sigh, running both hands through his hair. Then he picked up a pen and tapped it agitatedly on the table, willing himself to focus.

The royal demi was on edge and jumped when the telephone rang. The shrill sound cut harshly through the silence he had become accustomed to. He watched the red LCD light on the phone blink in time with the ringer as he crossed the dining room.

"Hello?" the teen was tentative as he lifted the receiver to his ear.

"Sir, I'm calling up from the lobby. You have a visitor here. A young lady."

Trunks sighed, knowing he should be happy that someone cared enough about him to come by, but lamenting that it wasn't the person he so badly hoped would do so.

"I'm not expecting anybody and I'm very busy. Please, tell whoever it is I'm indisposed." With that, he dropped the phone back onto its base and started across the dining room to where he'd been studying his notes. He'd barely gotten to his seat when the phone rang again. This time, sure that it was no one important, the teen answered with a distinct sense of annoyance. "Yes?"

"I'm terribly sorry, sir, but she's quite insistent. It's a Miss Kim. Says she's a school friend—." Trunks heard the sounds of a struggle on the other end of the line. "No, Miss, you can't—!"

"Trunks!?" A female voice that he immediately recognized took the place of the older gentleman. "Where have you and Goten been all week? I'm worried about you guys and I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on! I'm sorry to just show up at your door, but I don't have your phone number and I don't know where Goten lives. I just need to talk to you for a few minutes," she promised. Then added, "Please?"

The royal demi was taken aback for a moment by the urgency of her tone. He hadn't set foot on campus since the Thursday before except for five minutes on Monday morning to submit his withdrawal letter. Bulma didn't know about that part yet, but there was just no way he could continue going to school with Goten. And apparently the other demi had much the same idea.

"Earth to Trunks! Are you there?"

"Yes, yes," the teen shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. "I'll come down to the lobby. Just wait for me there. And, geez, try not to make any more of a scene!" he pleaded before hanging up.

Trunks made his way down the hall to his room deciding to ignore the rest of the note cards that were littering the table. It wasn't as though he'd been making any progress anyway. He smoothed his hair in the full-length mirror that hung near his closet and was just pulling on his second shoe when the phone rang demandingly yet again. He hopped down the hall on one foot, trying to pull the leather over his heel and nearly lost his balance reaching for the receiver.

"I-am-com-ing!" he accentuated each syllable with marked irritation, and there was a moment of surprised silence on the other end of the line.

The caller cleared his throat. "Trunks Briefs?"

"Uh . . . ." The demi-Sayian's eyes darted back and forth across the empty room as he hesitated. "Yes?"

"My name is Basil Goddard, dean of sciences at Weston University."

Trunks slapped the palm that wasn't holding the phone to his forehead. What a royal asshole these people must think he was by now! Really, if there was any mercy in the world, Dende would strike him dead right where he stood.

"I hope I'm not _bothering_ you?"

"Uh, no," the teen squeaked out, embarrassed, and moved the hand on his face to the back of his head in a nervous habit. "No, not at all!"

"Well, in that case, I'd like to inform you that you've been accepted for admission into our prestigious engineering program. Normally we just send out a letter," he said dryly, "but I suppose because you're such an important legacy the university president asked me to call you personally."

"Wow," Trunks couldn't hide his surprise. "Thank you so much."

"Oh, it wasn't my decision," the dean quickly informed him. "But apparently the admissions committee believes that test scores and family connections are more important than essay answers."

"Heh . . . lucky me," the teen replied sheepishly. This guy sounded like he had a real chip on his shoulder and Trunks vaguely wondered how miserable he would be able to make him as head of the department. But at the moment, it was the only bit of good news he'd had in what felt like forever and he clung to it. "I really look forward to starting in the spring."

"Your admission packet should arrive in the mail within a few days. Fill out all of the enclosed forms and return them to me as soon as possible. You'll report to my office the first day of the semester."

"Yes, sir."

After they said their goodbyes, Trunks hung up the phone with a glimmer of hope. So the guy was a hardass, but at least he could start at a new school in a few months. Perhaps he could move into the dorms and start a new life there, make some new friends, forget that Goten and Gohan ever existed and live a miserable, empty life as a shell of his former self!

Yes. Fantastic.

The glimmer of hope was, needless to say, fleeting.

Trunks grabbed his jacket from where it hung near the door and made his way down to the lobby. "Oh my god, you're alive," Kim observed as he stepped out of the elevators. But she regretted her sarcastic tone as she took a longer look at her one-time classmate. The dark circles under his eyes made his face look blanched and the redness surrounding the irises darkened formerly brilliant blue eyes. He didn't fill out his bootcut jeans or clingy linen sweater as well as she remembered either. "Boy, you don't look so hot."

"Filters, Kim. Filters." The girl had an annoying habit of saying whatever was on her mind and the last thing he needed was to hear about how awful he looked at the moment. "I'm just tired," Trunks informed her, then motioned so that she would follow him outside.

"I can't imagine why you'd be sleep-deprived, considering you're not attending school anymore." While they walked briskly down the street away from the apartment, she produced the latest copy of the WCU Reporter. Once again, there was a picture of him on the front page that Trunks didn't remember anyone taking. The headline read, 'Not Good Enough for Trunks?: Ambivalent Heir Withdraws from WCU.'

The teen rolls his eyes. "That's ridiculous. I am not—."

Ambivalent. Actually, he was . . . . Quite.

He waved the paper out of his line of vision with one hand. "Whatever. They don't even know me."

"Well, no," Kim said matter-of-factly as they stopped on the sidewalk in front of the North Side Diner. "No one does."

Even as Trunks pulled open the glass door for her and they stepped into the noisy restaurant, he figured the people who didn't know him should probably consider themselves lucky. He didn't exactly have the best track record with friends. And, of all the qualities he had inherited from Vegeta, being a bit standoffish was probably the least offensive one. Still, he didn't appreciate the subtext in the coed's remark; the insinuation that he was some stuck-up rich boy who didn't play well with others. The truth was that, no matter how friendly he might be, no one could really know him anyway. No one could really understand the things he had been through or the things he had seen. No one, that is, besides the other two people in the world who were exactly like him.

But seeing as how those two were M.I.A., he decided to give the girl a chance.

"Look, if you really want to know me," the demi-Saiyan began after they were seated in a booth near the back and had ordered various types of fried food for dinner, "then I'll give you an exclusive interview. You're wondering why I withdrew from school this week?" He nodded toward the newspaper that now lay on the table. "It's because Goten and I had a fight. We're not friends anymore and since he was the only reason I came to WCU in the first place, I've decided to leave. I was planning to wait 'til the end of the semester, but things have changed."

"I knew it!" Kim declared, snapping her fingers. She saw the quizzical look on Trunks's face. "I mean, when school first started, I got the impression that you guys were sorta . . . closer than most best friends. I told Tiffany that I thought you came here to be with Goten but she didn't believe me."

"Insight doesn't seem to be her strong point."

The coed played with her hair anxiously before continuing. "So, then, I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess that you weren't kidding that day in class when you said that . . . uh, that Goten had, um . . . ." Her already tanned skin colored noticeably and Trunks squinted at her trying to figure out why she was having so much trouble finding words. Then he remembered the last day he attended classed with Goten and how the girls had giggled at his lascivious announcement about his abused ass.

The teen broke into a sudden smile. "No," he laughed but then reconsidered it. "Well, I guess I was half kidding. Let's just say it's been a long time since Goten cared enough about fucking me to make it hurt."

Kim blushed deeper at her suspicions being confirmed in such detail, but Trunks could honestly remember a time when things had been so much more passionate between them. He shrugged it off. "Anyway, that was the last time we were together. He had barely rolled off of me before saying that he wanted to see other people. Told me he needed to 'find himself' or something, and by Monday, he was making out with your roommate in the library."

"So do you think . . . I mean, does Goten like girls?"

"I don't think he discriminates," the Capsule heir conjectured bitterly. "He's an equal opportunity asshole."

"Trunks!" Kim admonished him. "Don't talk about him that way."

The teen looked across the table at her, surprised by the protectiveness in her tone before he gasped in sudden understanding. "Oh my god. You like him, don't you? That's why you want to know." He clicked his tongue, but his tone was amused. "You little hussy. Falling for your roommate's boyfriend."

"Shut up, I don't like him! It's just that he was at our place all the time and, I dunno, I guess he kinda started to grow on me. A little." She rolled her eyes as though she was annoyed she'd let it happen. "It doesn't matter anyway. I'm not trying to get involved in this screwed up little triangle you guys have going on." She lifted one finger and motioned towards Trunks, implicating both him and Goten and whoever else they might decide to get involved from one affair to the next. "Besides, unlike Tiffany, I don't date gay guys."

"That's a smart move sweetheart," the waitress said as she put their respective plates of food down in front of them. Kim laughed feebly then dipped her head so that the long, straight bangs that weren't swept up in her ponytail hid the embarrassment on her face. Waitresses always had the best timing.

But Trunks was too caught up in his thoughts to notice the interruption. "You know, I think Goten actually believes I tricked him into being with me. He acted like he needed to get away from me to figure things out or something. But he forgets that he was the one to kiss me all those years ago. That he was all a-fucking-bout it when we were growing up. Then he just freaks out on me after everything that—." He reigned himself in, glancing almost sheepishly at his company. He had no idea why he was telling her all this.

"I know his change of heart must have been really hard for you to deal with," she said gently when the server was out of earshot. "But when you were younger he might not have understood the significance of what you guys were doing, or realized that it made him different. Maybe when he figured out that he would be labeled for being with you he wanted to make sure it was real. Not everyone is as comfortable laughing in the face of social norms as you seem to be."

"I just wonder if he realizes what he gave up to make his mommy happy. Because I really loved him. I would have done absolutely anything for him."

"Hmm. But that's not really true, is it?" his companion asked artlessly. "Cause he asked you to let him go. And that was something you weren't willing to do."

She chewed and swallowed a battered mushroom then shrugged while Trunks stared at her. "It just seems like things might've turned out differently if you'd given him the chance to recognize that he loved you all on his own. It didn't take long. In the end, he even told Tiffany that he'd made a mistake."

"What do you mean 'in the end?'"

"When he broke up with her last weekend," Kim explained as though it should have been apparent. She licked some crumbs off her fingers. "If they were still together, don't you think I would have asked i_her_/i where he was? She deleted all of his contact information from her phone in post-break up hissy fit."

The Capsule heir dropped his eyes to the table. "Last weekend?"

"Yeah. I'd left them alone to go get Sunday brunch at the cafeteria. But she came running in crying ten minutes later."

Trunks spoke softly, as though he was talking to himself. "Goten came to my place that day."

"To make up?" Kim inquired in an equally low tone.

"I dunno. We never got that far. I was sort of . . . ." He blinked his way out of the trance-like state he seemed to be in. "I was with someone else when he showed up."

His classmate grimaced apprehensively. "You mean WITH with?" and the lavender head nodded affirmatively.

"And that's not all." The teen chewed on his fingernail. "Do you remember when you taught me how to make that stir fry for my roommate?"

"Oh, yeah, of course." She laughed shortly. "I remember thinking that the last time a guy had tried that hard to impress me he was trying to get into my pan—." She stopped suddenly. "Oh! Is that who you were with?"

He nodded again.

"But, wait, didn't you say that your roommate was . . . Goten's . . . ?" He could see the gears in the young woman's head turning before she put two hands over her mouth. "Oh, Trunks. You didn't."

"You can save the lecture," he insisted preemptively, leaning back against the booth where they were seated. "Because I've already lost the only two people who ever meant anything to me and I can't imagine a harder way to have learned my lesson."

Still, she insisted on adding insult to injury. "Did you . . . do it on purpose?"

"No!" the demi-Saiyan cried, the question reopening an all-too-recent wound. How so many people could think him capable of such a thing was beyond his comprehension. "I would never . . . ."

"I believe you," his classmate promised after seeing the hurt flash in his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Trunks soon became resigned. "Anyway, the point is it happened, and if Gohan ever shows up at our apartment again it'll probably be to move his stuff out. As for Goten and me . . . . Well, I think you can see why we can't go to school together anymore. I don't know what'll happen when we see each other again. He broke like six of my ribs the last time."

"You must be kidding." She made a face. "I don't see Goten as much of a fighter. And besides, you seem fine."

"It's obvious you don't know either one of us very well. But since you're so interested, I'll tell you the truth. See, our fathers are aliens descended from a warrior race called the Saiyans. And since Goten and I share some of that DNA, we're actually really proficient fighters. We can also use technology developed on our fathers' home planet to heal much faster than a normal human could. So that's why these circumstances may not seem to make sense to you. But I assure you, he really did a number on me."

Kim just stared at him for a long moment. Then she threw her arms out in defeat and decided she was done trying to figure this kid out. "Well, now I understand why you don't talk to the newspaper. You probably want to keep it on the down-low that you're out of your damn mind."

Trunks smirked.

"So," the coed spoke again after a few quiet moments, "what happens now?"

"I don't know," Trunks answered. "I found out tonight that I got into Weston, so I'm leaving. Starting over, I hope," he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I have no idea what the other two will do. What about you?"

The girl lifted her palms again, this time in a helpless gesture. "What _can_ I do? Besides just keep on going to school, hope that Goten comes back at some point, and try to stay friends with you, him, and Tiffany, despite the fact that all of you hate each other."

"I bet you regret the day you ever introduced yourself to us," Trunks guessed, shooting her a discerning smile.

"Nah. Strangely enough, I don't. Hey, and you know, it's funny. I almost went to Weston, too."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean I got in but didn't go. Kinda like you."

"So what's your excuse?"

"Mine is simple. Couldn't afford it. It's just me and my dad at home and he's already working two jobs to put me through city college. I never told him that I got in because it would have made him feel too bad. It was just something I needed to prove to myself."

"It's a shame," Trunks lamented. "Sure would have been nice to know someone else there." His eyes lit up after a moment's contemplation. "Hey, you know, Capsule has a scholarship program!"

"Don't do me any favors, Briefs," Kim said, bristling. "I'm not about to give you something like that to hold over my head. The first time you get mad at me, I'll lose my funding!"

The demi-Saiyan huffed. Honestly, first Gohan and now her! These people had no idea how to recognize gratuitous generosity when they saw it.

"I wouldn't fit in with all those prep school types anyway," Kim continued before he could voice his protestations. "No offense to you personally. But I'm happy at WCU."

"Suit yourself," he pouted.

"Oh, come on now. You must be really excited," his classmate coaxed him. "I'll take you out for a drink after this so we can celebrate your future in the Ivy Leagues properly."

Trunks momentarily brightened at the invitation, not caring if it was issued only by way of apology. But he quickly reconsidered. "Nah, I'd better not. I have a big meeting in the morning with some high profile investment bankers. We're really depending on their financial support for our newest department and I don't wanna screw it up."

"Okay. Another time then?"

"Sure."

"Hey, what does Capsule need those guys for anyway? Couldn't your mom just fund the department herself?"

"Well, yeah, but you never want to tie up your own resources in corporate enterprises. There are liability issues to consider and the possibility of liquidation of your personal assets if the venture fails—.

Kim held up one hand. She was already getting a headache. "Forget I asked! I'll just take your word for it. Sounds to me like you know what you're talking about."

The teen sighed, slightly less confident. "Let's hope they see it that way tomorrow."

***

By the time 10:00 a.m. rolled around, Gohan had been staring at the clock in his office for at least forty-five minutes willing the hands to stop moving. Trunks's presentation would start in a few minutes and he had avoided seeing the royal demi for as long as possible after speaking with Goten earlier that week. He had firmly decided to sublimate his growing feelings for his roommate and focus his energy on helping the boys to repair their friendship. His recent actions, however unwittingly, had hurt Goten and he was sure that he could never make it up to his brother. If there was one thing he couldn't bear, it was letting down the people he loved and he only hoped that this self-imposed penance could quiet his screaming conscience.

Gohan had already confessed everything to Vegeta when the oldest Saiyan sought him out the weekend before. The prince told him that, when Trunks named both brothers on the list of people who'd never forgive him, it hadn't been hard to figure out what happened. But he hadn't assuaged Gohan's guilt at all, conjecturing that, 'When the Woman asked you to take care of him, I don't think that's what she had in mind.'

But when Vegeta had shared his opinion that the boys wouldn't get hung up on such 'petty, stupid things' if they had real problems to worry about, it gave Gohan an idea. Something that he hoped would give the two teens enough of a push to get over this hurdle. Piccolo helped him work out the details and Vegeta went along with it mostly because he was in disappointed with the general lack of excitement on Earth in the last ten years and how it had contributed to his son's 'slack attitude.'

How the Saiyan prince had gotten Bulma to agree, Gohan had no idea. But now that the plans were in place, there was no going back, and he was sure that it was the best way to orchestrate the younger demis' reconciliation.

Provided that nothing went wrong, of course.

Now it was his duty to lure the teen to Bulma's lab so they could set things in motion. Despite his apprehension at seeing his old roommate, Gohan had volunteered for the job, hoping it would give them a few minutes alone to have the talk he knew they needed to have. And besides, he had long ago promised Bulma that he would attend this meeting to provide backup for the teen and, regardless of everything else that had happened, Gohan knew Trunks had worked hard on this project and wanted to see him succeed.

His biggest source of unease as he stood up and shrugged off his white lab coat in favor of a navy blazer, was whether he'd be able to keep the promises he had made to himself when he finally saw Trunks again. Those walls that he'd once constructed with so much success had proven no match for the demi-Saiyan prince, and Gohan wasn't quite sure how to isolate his unwelcome feelings now. Trunks had been able to tear down his defenses before, and he feared that the emotions he'd been determined to bury might betray him when face-to-face with the teen.

Unable to put things off any longer, Gohan made his way across the room. Before leaving the office, he straightened his shirt and tie, then loosened the tie a bit and ran a hand through his spiky black hair. He looked at the clock again, took a deep breath, and headed out of his lab for the elevators. When he had made his way nearly to the top of the corporate high rise, he came upon the reception area outside the conference room. There was a buffet of breakfast foods set up and, though he shied away from it due to the queasy feeling in his stomach, he gratefully accepted the bottled water Meena handed him as he entered.

The dark-haired demi was tense as he pushed open the double glass doors to the board room. There were about a dozen men and women milling about and making conversation with each other before the presentation began. Trunks was there, of course, at the front of the room. Standing behind the podium, he looked more serious than Gohan had seen him in a long time—maybe ever. Totally absorbed in his slides; probably looking them over one last time. He was well-dressed in a grey suit, royal blue shirt, and tasteful striped tie. Lavender bangs fell over blue eyes that were narrowed intently and Gohan couldn't help but watch him as he frowned at the screen, drowning out everyone else in the room while he concentrated.

Outshining everyone else in the room without trying at all.

Gohan wondered if it was because he hadn't seen Trunks in so long that he was having trouble taking his eyes off of him. Perhaps the teen simply looked different to him in some unascertainable way now that Gohan had known him so intimately. Or maybe it was just as it had been that day in the dressing room. He had been unable to deny even then that the boy was hard to resist. And he was, Gohan had since learned, even harder to forget.

"Alright, let's get started." Trunks spoke authoritatively from the podium without looking up and Gohan was surprised that the sound of his voice had a similar effect as did seeing him again. Despite how hard the elder Son tried to concentrate on the subject at hand, he found himself neurotically wondering whether Trunks had thought about him in the last week and how the other demi would react to seeing him for the first time since the morning after. Gohan cast his eyes at the floor and cursed his own ridiculousness. This was exactly why he wasn't a one-night-stand sort of person!

As it turned out, though, he didn't have to wait long for his answers.

"If anybody has any questions before we begin I'll be happy to field them qui—." Gohan looked up when the teen dropped off midsentence to find that Trunks was staring at him wide-eyed. "Quickly," he finished softly, eyes still trained on Gohan's face.

While the two of them regarded each other, oblivious to their surroundings, a tall blond man in the front row stood, apparently taking Trunks up on his offer to entertain questions.

"Kit Duncan, Goldman, Sachs, New York," the blond introduced himself and his company gruffly. "I'll ask the question everyone wants to know before we bother to sit here for the next hour. How soon will we see a return on this investment and how large can we expect it to be? What's the bottom line for our clients? That's what we're all here to find out, am I right?" A few low mumbles of agreement could be heard around the room.

Trunks didn't seem to have heard anything despite the fact that he was only a few feet away from the guy and Gohan panicked as he realized his presence was not helping Trunks at all. Rather, it was having the opposite effect. The teen seemed transfixed. As the noticeable silence in the room stretched to an awkward length, the older demi stood up and cleared his throat. He could remember portions of the presentation from the day he tried to lift it from Trunks's computer and was familiar with the numbers from working closely with Capsule's research team.

"As one of the people overseeing the development of the new robots, I may be able to shed some light on that," he offered tentatively. "I can tell you that raw materials for the prototypes have been easy and inexpensive to get, so we don't anticipate any holdups putting the new products on the market. And because of the low cost of supplies and the high demand we're expecting, investors should see quick and sizeable returns. But," he glanced back at the Capsule heir, "I'm sure Mr. Briefs will go into more detail on that." He tried his best to reassure the other demi with a nod of encouragement. "Presently," he added with some exigency.

"Er, right," the younger man agreed. "I was just getting to that. Thank you, uh, Doctor . . . Son." The teen dragged a hand across his forehead to wipe away a few drops of perspiration then turned to face the projection screen. "Would you hit the lights for me please?" He didn't turn around.

By the time Gohan had returned to his seat, Trunks appeared to have recovered and began what sounded like a well-practiced speech on his financial projections, supplemented by various illustrations, graphs, and charts. He avoided looking in the other demi's direction again and, while no one else in the room would have noticed, Gohan was keenly aware of the deliberate behavior.

But when the hour was over, and the assembled investors stood up, clapping enthusiastically and talking amongst themselves about their optimism regarding the enterprise, Gohan found himself smiling all the same. Trunks had done well, and he would run the company one day perhaps even better than Doctor Briefs or Bulma had. Because more than being just a scientist, he had demonstrated a business acumen that neither his mother nor his grandfather had. Gohan was sure the bankers didn't plan to take the teenaged successor seriously and perhaps expected to intimidate him with their superior experience. But the queue of eager businessmen lining up to introduce themselves to Trunks made it clear he had proven them wrong. And Gohan felt an inexorable swell of pride both at how far Trunks had come and his potential to go further.

"Mr. Briefs, I'm sorry to interrupt," Meena stepped in the door just then, silencing the room with her announcement. "Your mother's just called and you're urgently needed downstairs in her lab. You, too, Mr. Son," she said, switching to Gohan briefly before addressing Trunks again. "I can leave the gentlemen with your business card if you'd like."

"Okay," the teen agreed, looking surprised and a bit worried. He apologized to those who had assembled and shortly followed Gohan out of the room. "Did she say what was wrong?" Trunks inquired when he reached Meena, but the secretary shook her head in the negative. He turned then to his estranged roommate. "Do you know what this is about?"

Gohan mimicked the woman's answer, shaking his head emphatically and hoping he wouldn't have to speak. Everyone knew he was a horrible liar. Trunks peered at him with what Gohan could swear was suspicion, but turned towards the door after a moment, apparently deciding to investigate for himself. The elder Son followed close behind and as they left behind the din of the reception area, the rhythmic sounds of their footsteps started to ring in his ears, emphasizing the uncomfortable silence.

"You did a great job in there," Gohan said sincerely, deciding to break the ice finally as he watched the younger boy press the call button at the elevator.

Trunks blinked lavender eyelashes before shooting him a sidelong glance. "And you have damned fine timing. I've been waiting five days to hear from you and you show up now?" The teen's eyes were narrowed but he sounded more indignant than angry. "Where have you been, Gohan? I've been at the apartment every day just—." Training his eyes on the elevator doors again he clenched his jaw, either unwilling or unable to finish the thought.

"I'm sorry, Trunks," Gohan said, and he meant it more than the other could know. But it would have been a horrible idea for him to go back to that small apartment where he'd be around the royal demi all the time, not knowing if he'd be able to refrain from crawling into his bed and making it clear just how sorry he was. "I didn't think it'd be a good idea to see each other," was all he said as the bell for the lift chimed and they stepped inside together.

Trunks's demeanor changed as quickly as their surroundings. "Gohan, if it's because you were mad at me, I need you to know that what Goten said wasn't true! I would never do that, I swear," he implored the other man. "You know, you were the only reason I got out of bed most mornings. After he left." The royal demi's voice wavered, but as Trunks focused on the digital display in front of him and watched it count down the floors, he realized what precious little time he had to articulate everything he'd begun to comprehend in the last week.

"Being with you, it . . . it meant something to me. More than something, really. It meant everything. And I know I've fucked shit up beyond belief," the teen proclaimed miserably, unable to hold it in any longer even if he'd wanted to. "But I never meant to hurt you. It's over between me and your brother. I just—I wasn't ready yet. You were right about that just like you were right about all the other stuff. But I'll get there," he promised urgently, trying to catch the older man's eyes. "I'll get there for you. And we can take it slower this time. Give Goten a chance to get used to us—."

"Trunks." Gohan felt compelled to stop him, though his own voice was strained. He struggled to hide the emotions his roommate's words evoked. Much as Gohan had suspected, he was unprepared for this encounter. He knew all too well that, one-on-one, Trunks wasn't the self-assured aspiring CEO that everyone recognized. He was the person Gohan had fallen for; passionate and spirited, troubled if not hopelessly insecure. And the teen's expression at the moment was just as it had been when he'd blinked up at Gohan from the dining room table, offering the heart on his sleeve. The older demi looked away before the other's vulnerability could destroy his already failing resolve. "There is no us."

Undeterred, the Capsule heir reached out and yanked on the elevator's emergency break, stopping their journey to the ground with a jolt and a loud screech.

"Will you look at me? I'm far from perfect, but something's changed in me these last few weeks. I don't know what it is, but I can feel it. Even though I screwed up at almost every turn, I feel like you were the one thing I got right in all this. And I know you feel it, too. I saw it," he insisted, "in your eyes that night."

Gohan tensed almost imperceptibly but it was more than enough to convince Trunks that he was right. He scrutinized the other man, wondering why it was that he was so utterly bent on self-denial. "Are we right back where we started?" the teen demanded, desperation beginning to creep into his words. "Building walls again?"

Gohan matched the young prince in his stubbornness. "I wish things could have been different, Trunks. I really do. But I just can't do that to Goten." That was what it came down to in the end and there was really nothing more to say. The elder Son reached out to disengage the brake and the elevator began to move again while Gohan clasped his hands behind his back. His posture resolute, he glanced at Trunks one last time. "I won't."

The tone left no room for argument. But the younger demi found it hard to believe that he had sealed his fate when he was eight; kissing Goten behind a palm tree in Capsule's indoor garden. An act whose significance he could not possibly have foreseen. The doors opened and the lavender-haired man stepped into the hall first. At last, he turned with a pointed look behind him as they approached their destination.

"Does Goten even know how much you sacrifice for him?"

The teen didn't expect an answer. He didn't need one. He already knew his words wouldn't change anything. To Gohan it didn't matter if Goten knew. He didn't do it to gain his brother's gratefulness or praise. He did it purely and unselfishly for his brother's benefit. But Trunks was unimpressed.

"Your altruism is flawed, Gohan. Who's to say that he deserves happiness any more than you? And what about what I want? Or have you already decided that for me?"

The dark-haired demi just stared at the boy obtusely. Why did Trunks insist on challenging him when he was so sure he'd settled on the best course of action? How did he manage, with a few simple questions, to shake Gohan's very world view to its core? And why in the hell couldn't he think of any satisfactory answers right now?

Gohan turned his back to the teen, refusing to indulge his misinformed musings. That's all they were anyway, right? Just Trunks's way of trying to get to him, he told himself.

"We'd better go," was all he said before pushing through the swinging doors that led to Bulma's lab. Leaving Trunks and all of his impudent questions in the hallway, Gohan seriously hoped that the old adage would prove true. The teen would soon be far out of sight and, hopefully, just as far out of mind.


	16. Chapter 16

Vegeta and Bulma Fan--I appreciate your enthusiasm. I know it's frustrating to wait but I assure you I'm updating just as fast as I can :)

Shadowed Shinobi--You're absolutely right. It *is* a personality flaw! I mean, it's good to be selfless, but it can become unhealthy after a point. Besides, I wonder how much Gohan is also motivated by fear. Like Trunks said in - I think it was Chapter 10? - fear of being happy. Anyway, I'm so glad you like it :) Trunks is, obviously, one of my favorite dbz characters too. Probably my all time fav.

**Chapter 16**

"Black star dragon balls?" Trunks asked sardonically, crinkling his nose. "That doesn't even sound like a real thing."

"Yeah," Goten piped in from across the cavernous lab. "If these things are really so powerful, then how come we've never heard of them before?"

"And how did someone else manage to find them if we didn't even know where they were?"

Piccolo's head turned from left to right and back again as the two youngest demis interrogated him. He had shown up at Mount Paozu an hour earlier and quite literally dragged Goten and his father to Capsule Corp., explaining that he had important news to share with everyone. Now the assembled group of Z-fighters stood in Bulma's private laboratory; Goku nestled between Goten and Vegeta, Gohan leaning against a metal workbench on the opposite wall from his father, and Bulma fastidiously working, bent over some gadget right next to him.

Trunks stayed near the doorway where they'd entered, leaning back against the cinderblock wall just inside the room. He had momentarily frozen there when he walked into the lab and unexpectedly locked eyes with the very demi-Saiyan he and Gohan had been arguing about. And considering the way his last meeting with Goten ended, he decided not to venture any closer. He didn't particularly feel like spending another perfectly good afternoon in a regeneration tank.

Goten, meanwhile, had watched the other demis' entrance closely. Although Trunks and Gohan had walked in together, they silently separated and moved to different parts of the room immediately. The younger boy didn't have much time to wonder what it meant since as soon as the two late arrivals showed up, Piccolo started in on his explanation.

Though it wasn't going over very well.

"Who was it, anyway, Piccolo?"

"Yeah, I haven't heard of any new threats on this planet. So did a couple of kids get to them? Don't you have any security up there?"

"Where was Mr. Popo when all this happened?"

"What did they wish for?"

"Look!" the Namek shot back, bad memories of training Gotenks causing him to lose his patience even faster than usual. "None of those details are important and we don't have time to get into them right now. The point is—."

"The point," the royal demi examined his nails with disinterest, "is that you should've seen this coming when you made something with so much destructive power. Seems pretty stupid if you ask me."

The guardian shot a scowl at Vegeta who, in turn, grunted angrily.

Gohan and Piccolo had an entire week to come up with a plan and this was the best they could do? Black star dragon balls? Huh! He should have known better than to leave anything up to that incompetent Namek and his half-breed protégé. Not to mention Trunks was too damned smart for his own good and if he didn't stop asking questions he'd ruin everything. Vegeta turned to him, cracking his knuckles purposefully. "One more word, Trunks. Please, I welcome the exercise."

"So, Piccolo . . . ." Goku spoke up from alongside Vegeta, a note of excitement creeping into his voice. "You say the earth will be destroyed by negative energy in one year if the balls aren't all brought back together?" He shifted his weight quickly from one foot to the other, giving the impression that he was about to start jumping up and down or running in place. One would think he'd just received the best news ever.

"That's right, Goku," Piccolo answered with a graveness that matched the Saiyan's exuberance. "And the bad news is—."

"You haven't even gotten to the bad news yet?" Trunks stared at him with incredulity. In the last ten minutes, he'd been dumped in an elevator then found out the earth was in its last year of existence, and apparently, the worst was yet to come. "Can we hurry this up? I have a dinner date!" The demi-Saiyan crossed his arms over his midsection as casually as he could; aware of two sets of dark eyes settling on him. Technically it was a rain check on the drink Kim had promised him. And he didn't think she really counted as a date. But Gohan and Goten didn't know that and it was none of their business anyway.

"As I was _saying_," Piccolo continued, ignoring the interruption, "these dragon balls don't just scatter across the earth." He paused dramatically, staring at each one of them in turn. "They scatter across the entire galaxy."

"Fan-fucking-tastic." Trunks dropped his head back against the cinderblock wall with a dull thud and stared at the ceiling.

Bulma gasped. "Someone is in a mood!"

"And I've got just the remedy," Vegeta growled.

"Hey, cheer up, you guys. That means we get to go into space!" Goku's eyes were brightening with every revelation. "I bet you're looking for a crew to go with you, huh, Piccolo?"

"Not exactly, Goku. I need to stay here. In case we're unable to track down the black star balls, Dende's going to need all the help he can get with this planet."

"Well in that case, whaddaya say, Vegeta?" Goku jabbed the smaller Saiyan in the ribs good-naturedly. "You wanna go? Think about how many strong fighters there must be out there. The whole galaxy," he breathed. "Wow."

"Please," the prince spat. "Like any of them would even pose a challenge to me. But by all means, have yourself a blast, Kakarott. Send me a postcard."

"Aw, c'mon, Vegeta!" Goku called out behind him as the royal Saiyan strode towards the door of the lab with his nose in the air.

"Forget about him," Piccolo ordered. "Goten, why don't you join your father?"

Goten's eyes widened as he glanced from Piccolo to his dad and back again. "Ah—but—I have school," he attempted lamely. "Mom'll kill me if I miss any more!"

"Oh, yeah." Goku scratched the back of his head thoughtfully, a look of consternation coming over his features. "And I suppose Chichi does get kind of upset when I leave."

"Like that ever stopped you before," Goten grumbled under his breath.

"We don't have time for this senseless bickering," Piccolo admonished, emphasizing his words with a stern look at the two youngest demis. "If someone doesn't get those dragon balls back here, and I mean _now_, there won't be any school for you to go to. Or any more dinner dates either. I thought I could count on you two to help, but I guess I didn't realize the Z-fighters had become so self-absorbed."

The disappointment in his tone was enough to make both Trunks and Goten drop their gazes to the floor.

"Bulma," he continued after a moment, turning to a more receptive audience, "did you say you had a ship that could make the voyage?"

"Well, of course, silly," she said, as though it was obvious. "Capsule's only been making them since my dad built the ship that took Goku to Namek twenty years ago! And I've even been able to alter the dragon radar to pick up the frequency of the black star balls!" She proudly held up a piece of equipment that vaguely resembled the dragon radar but with a number of wires hanging down to her workbench where they connected to a large metal grate.

She turned to Goten and Goku. "I just have to run a simple algorithm and then I'll be able to integrate it with the mainframe of the computer that runs the ship's navigational systems. All it'll need then is to isolate the unique molecular structure of the balls and—." She stopped abruptly as two sets of vacant brown eyes stared back at her, blinking. "And this model has a gravity training room and a full kitchen, too." She shot them a winning smile and winked.

"Aw, man, Bulma! You're the best. Wow, just like when I went to Namek. Those were the days." Goku's smile faded only slightly as he turned to his son. "Hey, we'll have a great time, Goten."

"Uh, but . . . ." Goten held his father's expectant stare as he wracked his brain for another excuse, wishing that in all their years of friendship some of Trunks's ability to think on his feet had rubbed off. "I . . . uh . . . . But Bulma!" He turned back to her. "We have no idea how to fly something like that. Maybe Gohan should go in my place."

"Sorry, kiddo. I need your brother here. Just in case the world i_doesn't_/i end in a year, I'll need my top scientist around to keep things running."

"Don't worry, Goten," Goku placed a hand on his shoulder. "You don't need to know anything about mechanics. These ships fly themselves."

"Actually this one won't," Piccolo interjected again. "Unlike the one you took to my home planet, this one has no set destination."

The blue-haired woman nodded. "That's right. The ship won't set a course until it's located the first dragon ball and that could be anywhere! Until then, you'll need to know how to navigate. I can probably teach you, but it'll take some time—."

The Saiyan prince broke into a caustic laugh from where he was now standing near the door. "Kakarott's a clown, not an astronaut. We don't have the kind of time that lesson would take." His laughter died off as black eyes settled on one ungrateful purple-haired princeling. Vegeta slapped a hand to the back of Trunks's neck, causing him to take a few unplanned steps forward. "Trunks will take you."

"Father!" the teenager hissed as he turned to look at Vegeta. But he was quickly immobilized as the hand beneath his hairline squeezed harder. How Vegeta could practically paralyze him and simultaneously cut off his air supply with one hand he had no idea. But the pureblood had quickly learned the trick when, in his mid-teens, Trunks had grown too tall to easily grab by the hair.

"If you don't get your over-used ass on that spaceship, boy," the Saiyan prince threatened so that only Trunks could hear, "then you'll have me to deal with. And I promise you," he tightened his grip along with his jaw so that he was now speaking through clenched teeth, "it won't be a walk in the park like it was last time."

Trunks grunted in acknowledgment. If the last time had been Vegeta's idea of going easy on him, he didn't want to know what the alternative was. Vegeta pushed him across the lab towards Goku. "Now, tell Kakarott how excited you are to escort him and the brat on this little trip."

The teen cast a sidelong glance at Goten before turning his eyes back to Goku. Vegeta finally let go and Trunks rubbed his throat. "It'll be great."

Goku nodded in agreement then turned to the other pureblood. "He's right, Vegeta. Sure you don't wanna come?"

"I can't imagine anything less appealing than being stuck in that ship with you. Forget about me, Kakarott, and spend some time with your son." Goku blinked then looked back over his shoulder at Goten. Vegeta's eyes came to rest on the youngest demi as well.

"And you," he addressed Goten deliberately. "Spend some time with mine."

***

_A fucking setup!_ Trunks fumed as he changed into one of the sleek black space suits Bulma had provided them. That's what this was. He was sure of it. Some kind of hair-brained scheme thought up by the others to try and get him and Goten to talk. Well, it wasn't going to work. If they thought they were doing the boys a favor by shoving them onto a tiny pod and sending them into the depths of blackest space they were sorely mistaken. It was a recipe for disaster.

Trunks began to seriously contemplate taking his chances with Vegeta. But while it was clear that the crew of this little mission had been very purposefully chosen, there was a slim possibility that the premise was real. It sounded ridiculous, but he couldn't be sure. And he didn't want the destruction of the world on his shoulders all because he couldn't get along with his ex-boyfriend.

So there he was, trading in his Armani for a space suit and mentally preparing for the worst. Trunks was happy to see that at least his mother's fashion sense had improved since she'd designed that horrific Saiyaman costume all those years ago. He held one arm out, examining the lightweight material. It seemed to be a sort of thin, modern rubber polymer that made it look as if the three of them had been coated up to the neck in black paint.

Since the moment they had agreed to take this trip, Trunks had tried to keep Goku between himself and Goten at all times, the older Saiyan being as much of a buffer zone as he could hope for. Now he watched the pureblood pull the protective material over his torso and zip the front of the suit, stretching it taut around his well-toned muscles. The almost wet-looking black fabric matched his hair and eyes and made his pale skin seem all the more radiant by comparison. The outfit clung to every crease and curve and Trunks thought it was easy to see where the younger Sons had gotten their incredible genes.

Goku put on a matching pair of boots then stood up straight, his features taking on a purposeful expression as he picked up a helmet. "Alright, boys. Let's go." The other two followed him out of the hangar, albeit less enthusiastically, and into the bright noontime sun. The spherical ship that had become a Capsule Corp. trademark over the years stood ready for takeoff at the center of the complex.

Bulma approached her son. "Sweetie, the new radar is built right into the ship. Once it locates the first ball, autopilot will take over. If you have any questions, I'm just a tele-monitor away." To Trunks's surprise, she wiped away a stray tear from her cheek then leaned in to kiss his hair. "Be careful," she whispered, and the teen pulled back to study his mother's face. She knew he'd been flying ships like this since he was practically a child, helping her and Doctor Briefs test out their new designs.

"It's okay, Mom," he reassured her. "It's no big deal."

Bulma pressed her lips together, nodding, then trotted quickly away to stand with Vegeta. She clung to his arm and her tearful farewell gave the royal demi pause as he boarded the craft. He and Goten watched their friends and family members disappear from view as the hatch closed. He only noticed at the last second that Gohan did not join the send-off party.

"Wooh yeah!" Both turned around at the muffled whoop that came from inside the ship and Goten threw the small duffel bag he'd packed over his shoulder with a sigh.

"Guess that means Goku found the kitchen."

***

It didn't take long before the revamped radar picked up a signal from the first ball. They were nearing the edge of the solar system and, now that there were no nearby planets to create interference, the radar's range appeared to have increased dramatically. A tiny white dot was blinking at the outer edge of the navigational screen and Trunks quickly calculated its distance. It was far away but at the high rate of speed they were travelling, they could cover a lot of ground.

"About twelve hours 'til we reach the first ball," he announced to no one in particular. Goten looked up from where he was sitting a short distance away. His feet were pulled up onto the seat so that his chin rested on his knees. He let go of the lock of raven hair he'd been threading between his fingers and the crescent-shaped spike bounced back to its normal position above his head. It was the only indication he gave that he heard the announcement. So far he and Trunks had managed not to speak directly to each other. The royal demi stood up and stretched his legs then turned to observe their surroundings. "Might as well make ourselves at home."

The main level of the ship contained the cockpit and living areas, and judging from the beeline Goku made to the lift as soon as it was safe to unfasten their seatbelts, Trunks knew the kitchen was below. That would mean the gravity room was on the upper level.

He approached the first door on the left and it opened automatically to reveal a bathroom. To his surprise, the second door led to a recreation room with a flat screen T.V. on one wall with several plush-looking chairs in front of it. There was a video game console that Trunks didn't think was even on the market yet and he smiled, thankful for his mother's foresight. But his grin faded as he turned to face the opposite wall.

There were only two doors on the other side of the ship.

That meant . . . .

"Only two bedrooms," he mourned, staring despondently at the wall. Trunks didn't even realize he'd spoken aloud but the youngest Saiyan perked up at the words.

As if this entire trip wasn't already his worst nightmare come true, now Goten learned he would be stuck with either Trunks or Goku as a bunkmate. And, truthfully, he couldn't decide which one he'd rather room with less. He picked up his bag just as his father re-entered the main level with an armful of food he was happily munching.

"I'll take my own," the teenager said decisively, stalking into the nearest bedroom and dropping onto a bed. "Dad, you can bunk with Trunks. Who knows? Maybe he can make it a trifecta."

Trunks's mouth dropped open. The blood rushing beneath the surface of his skin made his face flush for a second. Then, forgetting his embarrassment, he pushed past the older Saiyan and approached the open door. "Oh, yeah, Goten," he snapped, "because _I'm_ the one who just jumps into bed with the nearest warm body."

"Only if they're related to me," Goten shrugged.

"Well at least this time I'll be expecting the complete abandonment that comes afterward!"

Goten growled through clenched teeth and Trunks balled his own fists at his sides, snarling just as loudly.

"Boys, boys!" Goku slapped a greasy palm to Trunks's chest and held a turkey leg out at Goten. "We're all going to have to learn to get along. We can't let our personal differences affect this mission. Remember," his voice softened, "there are a lot of people counting on us."

The two stared at him defiantly for a moment before reluctantly backing down.

"You're right, Goku."

"Sorry, Dad."

The pureblood patted the demi-Saiyan prince on the shoulder and flashed a smile at Goten. "Now that's better."

After Goku turned to leave, Trunks wasted no time making the wanker sign at Goten to which he responded by crossing his arms over his groin and mouthing "suck it".

Eyes flashing, the royal demi stepped into the room only far enough to snatch a pillow from the empty bed near the door before heading back to the control seat.

This was going to be a long trip.

***

"You don't mind that I took off, do you, Bulma?" Gohan asked into the mouthpiece of his cell phone as he walked across the lobby of his old apartment building. "I wanna try and get my things packed up while Trunks is gone. You know, just to avoid a scene."

He listened to her speak as he rode up to the fourteenth floor on the elevator and she was still talking by the time he pushed open their door. He made sure to throw in a "yeah" or an "uh-huh" every few seconds so she would think he was listening. In truth, he was distracted and not even the sound of her rather shrill voice in his ear could stop his mind from wandering. The meeting with Trunks earlier had left him shaken and he was having a hard time writing off the younger demi's words as insignificant. Nothing spoken with so much sincerity could be completely void of meaning, could it?

Gohan took a sweeping look around the main room. It was strange for him to be in the apartment again. Not even a week had passed but it somehow felt like forever since he'd been there. With Bulma's nervous chatter like background music in his ear, he fished a capsule out of his pocket and tossed it onto the living room floor. It burst into a pile of moving boxes and, as he grabbed one off the top, Gohan realized that the cardboard mess he'd just made was the only thing out of place in the entire apartment. In fact, it was so spotless that he would have assumed Trunks had been staying with his parents. But then he remembered the teen's own words. He had been there all week.

"Uh—I'm sorry, what?" He realized Bulma had stopped talking and was apparently expecting him to say something. "Oh, yeah, I know. I'll be there. This shouldn't take too long."

Gohan made his way down the hall and into his bedroom. Right away he noticed the faded SCC tee sitting laundered and neatly folded on the edge of his bed. It tugged at his heartstrings to see it there, so deliberately placed. As if it was waiting for him to come home. Though, of course, it wasn't the shirt that he'd deserted. Rather, it was the person who'd placed it there.

But Trunks was a smart boy. How could he not have seen this coming? Sure he was willful; and it was true that he got his way most of the time. But even Trunks would have to acknowledge the obstacles – indeed the glaring i_obstacle_/i – that stood in their way. And if he had ever expected Gohan to write off his brother's feelings to be with him, then he didn't know the eldest Son at all.

"Yeah, okay," Gohan said as he lifted the shirt from the bed and placed it in the box he was holding. "I'll see you then. And don't worry, Bulma. I'm sure that we did the right thing."

He flipped his phone closed and put it in his pocket, realizing with little joy that he was getting better at that whole lying thing.

***

Goten awoke in the middle of the night. Pitch blackness surrounded him and he was aware of the sensation that he was moving. Alarmed, he sat up in bed and pushed the covers off his legs, planting his feet on the floor. But as soon as he remembered where he was he wished he hadn't. Glancing at the bed across from him, he found it empty. It looked like Trunks had decided to sleep with Goku after all.

Becoming aware of the pressure in his bladder, Goten realized what it was that woke him up. He stood and stumbled across the common area to the bathroom. The automatic doors made it a much less noisy trip than it might have been. Once he had relieved himself, he started back the way he came, pausing to look out the large dome-like windshield to his right. All he could see were the brightest stars for millions of miles in every direction. He had never been in space before and even in his sleepy daze the sight was breathtaking. Most people would go their whole lives without ever laying eyes on something like this.

In his awed silence, Goten soon became aware of the sound of even breathing nearby. His eyes had adjusted to the dark by now and he could see Trunks asleep on the floor near the far wall. His head was supported by the duffel bag he'd packed and the pillow he'd taken from Goten's room was tucked snugly between his right arm and his torso. His left arm was draped across his face, half hiding it from view. It was a sight that was at once familiar and disconcerting to Goten.

Before he could think on it any longer, an automated voice echoed from the control panel informing him that they were approaching the location of the first dragon ball. "Landing in T-minus three minutes," it stated in a soothing monotone.

Goten glanced at the sleeping demi again. Maybe Trunks would want to be awake for the landing. He didn't need to pilot the ship, as far as Goten knew, but he sure would love this besides, Goten felt pretty bad that Trunks was sleeping on the floor. He probably shouldn't have said what he did about Goku.

Chewing his bottom lip, the teenager approached his old friend. He knelt down alongside him but thought twice before touching him. Trunks might be startled when he woke up and Goten wasn't sure what his reaction would be. But as if it was part of his muscle memory his hand reached out for Trunks's shoulder without his brain's permission. How many times had he knelt above Trunks just like this; making his friend walk him to the bathroom in the middle of the night back when Capsule's high and sprawling hallways had seemed impossibly scary?

Goten squeezed lightly. "Trunks," he whispered. "Hey, Trunks, wake up." The royal demi took a loud breath and groaned as he shifted his weight on the floor. His hand came down on top of Goten's.

"Hmm . . ." he murmured in his sleep, putting a small amount of pressure on the fingers. "Gohan?"

The youngest Son pulled his hand away as though it had been burned. The sudden movement brought Trunks around and he pushed himself up on one arm, blinking drowsily. "What?" he asked, apparently oblivious to the offense he'd just committed. "What is it?" There was a note of irritation in his voice.

Goten stood up, wiping his hand on his pants where Trunks had touched it and turned with a huff toward his bedroom. He was surprised when a bright red light illuminated the cabin.

"Warning, warning." The voice was louder now, and no longer soothing. "Landing sequence malfunction. Landing sequence failed to initiate."

Goten spun back in the direction of the voice. He saw Trunks jump to his feet and approach the control panel. Several parts of it were blinking and it didn't look like it could mean anything good. The Capsule heir ducked under the control panel and resurfaced with what looked like a phone book. Goten quickly realized, however, as Trunks began flipping through it and pressing buttons on the console, that it was an instruction manual. He seemed to be running through some sort of a checklist. But whatever he was doing didn't quiet the female voice that now blared warnings at them in rapid succession.

"Landing gear failure," she informed them and the royal demi swore, fisting one hand in his hair. The landing gear was the least of his problems! He couldn't even get the ship to decelerate. Trunks had tried overriding the autopilot but it wouldn't recognize any of his commands and they were still barreling through space at full speed.

"Trunks?" Goten inched closer to the other boy. "What's happening?"

"Go get your dad, Goten." Trunks kept his voice as calm as possible. "This is going to be a rough landing."

"'Kay." With that he scurried off. When the older Saiyan came out of his room, rubbing his eyes and yawning, Trunks barked at him.

"Get in your seat and strap in!"

Both Sons did as directed. But the royal demi doubted how much buckling up would help any of them. At the rate the ship was heading towards the rapidly growing profile of the planet, there would be nothing left of it when it hit the surface.

"Whoa, Trunks, what's going on?" a more alert Goku asked.

"I don't get it," the teen admitted as he ran through the override sequence yet again. There were multiple fail-safes built into every Capsule ship. For nothing to work, for the computer to fail to respond to any of his commands seemed almost impossible. It was more than just a simple manufacturing flaw. System after backup system would have to fail. How unlucky could they possibly be?

Abandoning the manual, he began to think through their alternatives. They could blow up the planet. But what if it was inhabited? And in case he didn't manage to fix the ship, they couldn't just blow up every planet that got in their way until the damn thing ran out of fuel.

"Trunks." Goten's tone was slightly frantic. The youngest Son sat strapped in to the chair next to the control seat which was glaringly empty. They were close enough to the planet now that he could see what looked like vast forests covering the surface of the brownish landmass. The ship began to shake as it entered the atmosphere.

"Trunks, quit it now." Goku chimed in with an identical plea. "We're going to have to brace ourselves."

But there was one last thing that might work and the teen pulled up on the steering column with all his strength, ignoring his shipmate's entreaties. Since he didn't seem to be able to slow them down, he figured if he could change the ship's course, they might at least have a chance. Skimming the surface of the planet would doubtless be better than smashing directly into it.

The teen kept his eyes on the console and the rapidly approaching ground. He could see that the surface was made up of a red-brown sort of mud. The forests were full of tall, twisted trees not at all like the ones on Earth. They were leafless and looked dead. He realized that at the speed they were travelling, there was no way the ship could pull up in time to avoid impact. And Capsule ships, though based on the Saiyan model, weren't meant to slam into the faces of planets like an asteroid on a collision course. Whatever element it was that made Saiyan pods able to withstand that kind of pressure did not exist on Earth. That's why a Capsule ship's landing system was supposed to be state of the art.

"_Trunks!_" Goten screamed his name this time, but his voice just barely overcame the rattling of the ship's parts, doing their best to hold together despite the atmospheric onslaught. The Capsule heir made a mental note to Final Flash the asshole who had assembled this piece of junk if he ever made it back to Earth. Then he turned to Goten, locking onto him with his eyes in the midst of the clamor. The younger demi's fearful stare turned to one of surprise as Trunks lunged at him, wrapped his arms around Goten's chair, closed his eyes, and gathered as much energy as he possibly could.

***

Goten looked at the sky. The millions of stars he had been admiring twinkled above him like so many white lights on a black canopy. They were even brighter here than they were on a clear night at Mount Pouzu. He felt inexplicably tired and closed his eyes to go back to sleep, but the pain in his left arm wouldn't let him. Moaning, he rolled over to alleviate the unnatural angle at which it was bent and found himself face down in chalky dirt. Choking on the dust, he sat up and glanced to the left and right. All he could see for miles was reddish brown earth.

No, wait. Not Earth. This was the alien planet they'd crashed into. There had been an accident. And not far away on the ground lay an unmoving pile of black and purple.

"Trunks!" The teenager dashed across the dry ground before falling to his knees near the other demi. "Trunks! Wake up," he begged, gathering the unconscious boy's upper half in his arms and shaking him as violently as his own injury would allow. At first the lilac head only rolled back and forth unresponsively. But finally, to the youngest Son's great relief, cloudy blue eyes blinked open.

"Goten?" Trunks's eyes grow clearer as he looked around, struggling to remember what had happened. Suddenly he turned to Goten and grabbed both of his arms, as if trying to reassure himself the other boy was real. Goten winced at the contact.

"It worked," he exclaimed. "The shield—it worked! We're okay!" Goten nodded but he didn't share Trunks's enthusiasm. They had made it through the crash landing in one piece, but that was only the beginning of their problems. Over Trunks's shoulder he could see the wreckage of the ship and there was hardly anything left of it. Raising his gaze, he realized they were in the middle of an enormous crater.

Trunks's eyes followed his and the same realizations began to dawn on him. To his surprise, though, he realized they were having no trouble breathing. By some astronomical coincidence, they had landed on a planet with an atmosphere similar to their own. He turned to Goten to voice the observation, but now that the two boys faced each other, he could feel Goten's breath on his skin. The younger Son was still holding onto him but let go abruptly when he realized how close they were.

Both pushed themselves to their feet.

"What kind of place is this?" Goten wondered, looking up into the sky again. They couldn't see much else from the bottom of the hole they were in.

"I guess we'll find out." Trunks had already started climbing the steep wall that led to the surface. He pulled himself over the lip of the crater and planted two feet on the planet's dusty crust. It was dark at the moment, but the place likely had a sun because there were things growing there. The bizarre, leafless trees he had seen on their approach twined together to make a surprisingly dense forest off to his right. There was no grass anywhere and the whole planet seemed to consist of dry dirt.

Besides Goten, who had just joined him on the surface, there wasn't another living soul around. It was eerily silent except for the wind whistling through the nearby trees and the sizzling sound of steel cooling at the bottom of the crater.

"Hey, Trunks." The younger boy did a slow three-sixty. "Where's my dad?"

The teen prince gasped. In his relief at surviving the crash, he had completely forgotten that there were supposed to be three in their party. He joined his friend in scanning the area with his eyes. Then, with a feeling of dread, he followed Goten as the younger boy floated back down towards the wreckage. They hovered above the twisted metal that had once been their transport and looked for any sign that the older Saiyan was among the debris.

"He's . . . not here." Trunks's tone was relieved but the revelation only left him more confused.

In a flash of light, his companion disappeared into the sky to gain a better vantage point. "Dad!" he yelled from high above. "Dad, where are you?" But Goten knew better than to expect an answer. There were no signs of life in this place and he couldn't sense his father at all. Not even faintly.

He touched down next to Trunks at the edge of the dead forest. "I—I don't understand," the younger teen said, squinting as he peered into the trees. "He should be here with us."

"Well, maybe . . . ." Trunks avoided Goten's searching eyes as a disturbing thought occurred to him.

"What is it?"

"Well, I—." He paused, not quite knowing what to say. Goku was the strongest person he knew in the entire universe. It had never occurred to him that he might need any help. "You see, I . . . I only shielded the two of us."

"You . . . ." Goten blinked. "What?"

"I couldn't make it any bigger or it wouldn't have been strong enough to protect us!"

The younger demi looked pale as his eyes darted involuntarily to the nearby hole in the ground. There was still smoke pouring out of it.

"Dad!" he shouted desperately, taking off at a run towards the ship again.

"Goten, wait!" Trunks caught up to him quickly, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy's waist from behind and stopping him in his tracks. "Wait," he repeated more forcefully. He was quite sure that Goku wasn't in that crater and if he was, well . . . . This was no time to let Goten get hysterical.

"Let go of me!" The other twisted and struggled and Trunks was forced to squeeze him tighter to stop him from flailing.

"Calm down." The voice was at once soothing and authoritative and Goten momentarily quieted. "He probably IT'd somewhere." Gohan had learned how to teleport in relation to other power levels rather than directly to them. If he could do it, then surely Goku could, too.

"He _probably_ disintegrated!" Goten offered his own hypothesis.

"Don't say that. Your dad is stronger than both of us put together. If we survived, he did, too."

Goten raised his power enough to break free from Trunks's grasp then spun to face him. "We only survived because of you. Why didn't you shield him?"

The royal demi tried to keep his cool but it was hard not to get defensive when Goten practically accused him of killing Goku. "I _told_ you I couldn't make it that big. I could only help one of you—."

"Why didn't you choose him then?" Goten demanded, grabbing for the front of the other boy's space suit. Trunks just didn't make sense to him sometimes. If he'd have gone for Goku instead, then everyone would be happier. The universe would still have its hero and Trunks's dream of a world without Goten would come true. The younger Son struggled to catch the slippery material between his fingers and Trunks kept him at bay with a forearm pressed to his chest. "If you could only save one of us," Goten spat, "why would you even bother with me!?"

"Be-cause." Trunks gritted his teeth, pushing back harder against the other. The sounds of their struggle echoed in the dark forest.

"Because why, Trunks?" Goten mocked the older demi. "You'd trade with Mirai to be rid of me. You said so yourself."

"I know what I said!" Goten's back hit the tree behind him.

"So you had your chance," he panted, dropping his head against the bark but still holding Trunks's gaze. "Why not take it if you hate me so much."

"I don't hate you, you stupid ass!" Trunks shouted in his face. "I—."

He stopped abruptly, eyes flashing in the dark. "Shit," he swore, and the hand that wasn't pinning Goten to the tree smashed into the wood near his head.

"You what?" the younger boy challenged hopelessly. There was a time when he would have feared a hurtful answer, but after so many weeks of fighting, he only felt numb. And if they were going to die here on this god-forsaken planet, they might as well just get it off their chests.

"I love you, you goddamn idiot!" Trunks threw his arms out to the sides. He turned away from the shocked look on Goten's face and scowled at the cracked and dusty landscape. "Don't look so surprised. You fucking well know I do."

On the contrary, it was the one answer the younger demi hadn't been expecting. Not after all of the things the teen prince had said and done to him. Even before they'd parted ways, he often felt more like one of Trunks's possessions than his closest friend. Goten took a shuddering breath. "And just how would I know that, Trunks?"

The Capsule heir stared across the landscape for a long time. The bright stars in this planet's midnight sky illuminated half of his face and left the other half shrouded in shadow. "You hurt me," he said finally, accentuating each syllable so that Goten might comprehend the severity of his transgression. "You hurt me in ways I never thought you could."

"Trunks—."

"Wait. I'm not finished."

He turned to face Goten again and when he next spoke, his tone didn't have such a hard edge. Gone was the cold, apathetic exterior Goten had grown so used to.

"You can't imagine what it was like, those first few days without you." Trunks shook his head when it looked like the younger boy was going to protest. "No. You have no idea. You don't know what I went through and you can't possibly know what your brother went through to help me."

Goten stared at him mutely now, his wide eyes blinking as he took in the words.

"But it did force me to take a good look at myself. And in the end, I eventually came to understand why it was that you left. But it didn't make it any easier to deal with the fact that you were gone."

Trunks looked at the ground and his bangs fell in front of his eyes. He lifted one hand to push them off his face.

"You and me never talked about what was going on between us, Goten. Hell, we never talked to anyone about it." Trunks shrugged remorsefully. "I guess I can't really blame you for being confused. I know I treated you like a doormat most of the time and yet acted like I was doing you a big favor. Not to mention . . . . Well, we were just kids when everything started."

Both were silent and Goten wasn't sure how long he listened to the whistling of the wind before Trunks continued. "Sometimes I think we shouldn't have let it go so far, ya know? Because it was always going to come to this." He looked up to glance at their surroundings. Of course he couldn't have predicted they'd end up having this conversation here on some forgotten planet. But he was sure that, from those first few experimental caresses, the only way it could have ended was in flames.

"To the extent that it complicated _everything_, Goten, I'm sorry that it happened. And if I could go back and do things differently, I would. Because I did love you. And despite everything that's happened, I always will. That's why I saved you. Okay?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head, embarrassed at his own display of emotion. "Who'd've guessed it, huh? I always prided myself on being the stronger one."

But Goten, too, had to bite his bottom lip to keep it from trembling. He wanted to tell Trunks about everything he had learned, as well, in the weeks without him. How close he had come to drowning and that – if anything – instead of finding the answers he'd been seeking, in leaving he had lost a vital part of himself.

He wanted to say that he was sorry. But most of all, he just wanted his best friend back. Because, despite his antagonistic behavior, inside the teen was aching to let go of the grudges they'd been holding. Perhaps the most important thing he had learned was that the burden of prolonged separation was the worst pain either could inflict on the other.

He was nowhere near as good as Trunks at expressing those kinds of things. Lucky that the royal demi could read him like a book, anyway.

At long last, Goten gave in to the magnetic pull between them and embraced his old friend. "I missed you," he exhaled forcefully as his chest was crushed against the other boy's. Goten thought he might suffocate Trunks if he squeezed him any harder. But he could feel Trunks's nails digging into his back as he fisted the thin fabric of the space suit. The lavender-haired demi was shaking and Goten imagined the same waves of relief that were crashing over him were the likely cause. He tightened his grip and it was only then that he again became aware of the aching in his shoulder. Ignoring it, he squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want this moment to end.

But he could feel Trunks withdrawing from the embrace and after a moment he grudgingly let go.

"What's wrong with it?" the older teen inquired, collecting himself.

"I dunno," Goten admitted, reaching up to massage the injured appendage. "It just hurts."

Trunks gave him a knowing look and began pulling the zipper down on Goten's space suit. He peeled back the fabric only far enough to see his shoulder. The exposed skin was bruised and red in comparison to the milky whiteness of his chest.

"It's only dislocated, you baby." This was practically a daily injury when one lived with Vegeta. The young prince slid one hand down the back of Goten's suit to his shoulder blade. He pressed the front of his chest with the other.

"Ow," Goten complained after they heard a loud pop.

"Good as new."

"Thanks."

Trunks withdrew his hand from the younger boy's suit and zipped it up again.

"You're welcome."

Their lips met before Trunks really knew what was happening. For a moment it felt like they were back in his bedroom again, as though nothing that had happened these past few weeks was real. But he noticed with surprise that this kiss felt different. It wasn't poisoned with expectations, demands, or judgment. It wasn't tainted by the taste of tears like so many of their intimate moments had been over the years. Trunks realized it wasn't really like their last kiss at all.

No, it was more like the first one.

Back when things had been simple. And this time, Trunks thought, it'd be better to keep them that way.

Goten reached up to touch his cheek and the two separated. Without having to say anything, he knew the younger boy had come to the same conclusion. Trunks wanted a relationship, and not just kids' stuff. It wasn't enough for him anymore and, quite honestly, it hadn't been for awhile. He wanted a commitment and it wasn't something that Goten could give. Maybe the other boy had been able to sense it weeks ago, even before Trunks had known it himself.

Goten smiled and his whole face brightened. That was the smile that Trunks had fallen in love with. How ironic that he had seen it so rarely since then. He caught his best friend's hand in his own.

"So, how did the search for 'Goten' ever turn out, anyway? Was the real you hiding somewhere under Tiffany's clothes as you had suspected?"

"Shut up," Goten blushed, embarrassed at his own naiveté in retrospect. "No, he wasn't. And you'd never believe the stuff that _was_ under there, Trunks." He lowered his voice considerably, as if anyone could hear them. "You have no idea what I had to deal with!"

The royal demi laughed in earnest then. "You know who's gonna be sorry to hear that?" He raised one eyebrow. "Our mutual friend, Kim. She totally wants your cock." Trunks jumped out of the way as Goten swung at him and the two quickly disentangled. "I'm serious, Goten!"

The younger teen put a hand behind his head. "She's great, ya know? But I think I'm gonna stay single for awhile. I mean . . . I'm just getting out of an eighteen-year relationship with this really high-maintenance guy." Now it was Trunks's turn to jab his friend in the ribs. "Anyway, I don't wanna jump into anything new."

"It's a good idea." Trunks's smile slowly faded. His tone was unconvincing as he kicked up some dirt with the toe of his boot. "It's about time we give the single life a try, right?"

"Ah! But—." Goten tilted his head, uncomprehending. "But what about Gohan?"

"Oh," Trunks waved his hand with practiced nonchalance. "It's not gonna work out."

"Why not?"

"Cuz he told me so, okay?" Trunks couldn't keep the edge out of his voice. He turned away from his friend when he noticed the other staring at him discerningly. "And the five minutes it took him to tell me that were the most he's spoken to me all week. So, believe me, he made it pretty clear that he's not interested."

"You mean you guys aren't still living together?"

"Not even close." Trunks made a face. "I have no idea where he's been. In fact, I figured he was back at Mount Paozu." Goten shook his head in the negative. "Look, whatever. It's no big deal, okay? So just drop it."

"Hmm . . . ." Goten chewed on his thumb nail. "'Kay," he acquiesced finally.

"So . . . you're not mad then?" The Capsule heir pushed a few unruly strands of hair behind his ear while he waited for Goten's answer.

"Well, if you really cared about him," the younger Son reasoned, "then it's not so easy to be angry anymore. I mean, how can I fault you for loving Gohan? I love him, too."

The royal demi realized his father was right about this family. They didn't think the way other people did. It was one of the things that made them so utterly remarkable.

Well, that and their fantastic glutes.

Trunks took his friend's hand again. "I guess we'd better figure out how we're gonna get off this rock, huh?" He stared at the landscape over Goten's shoulder as he went over their limited options in his head.

"I wish my Dad was here. He'd know what to do." The younger boy sighed and Trunks focused his eyes on him with concern. It had been a long time since he'd heard Goten refer to Goku with affection, not to mention wistfulness. "The last time we talked, Trunks, I said some things . . . ."

Goten squeezed his eyes shut and when he didn't go on, the royal demi pulled him close again and pinned his friend's tired head to his shoulder.

"I just don't wanna lose him again," Goten admitted.

Trunks petted his jet-black hair and with every stroke, the soft spikes bounced up to tickle his cheek. Considering it was something he never thought he'd feel again, each fleck was like a gift for which he was grateful. It was funny how near-death experiences could change everything so quickly, and he couldn't help but think back to the story Vegeta told him about Mirai.

"You'll get another chance to tell him how you feel, Go-chan, I promise. My father says it's never too late to make up for your mistakes. And do you know what?" he whispered, gazing up at the stars above them. "After today, I know for sure that it's true."


	17. Chapter 17

Shadowed Shinobi—Happy Birthday! (Belated, at this point). I'm glad I could help you to celebrate it in some small way :)

Vegeta and Bulma Fan—You are sweet. Thank you for not begging for the next chapter, lol. I work on this every day and sometimes, when it's not coming out right, it can be soo frustrating. But I can't do it any faster because I just have to wait for inspiration to strike. Anyway, I am ecstatic that you are so eagerly awaiting them, and thanks for what you said about people not knowing what they're missing. I tend to agree, actually! (Not to sound conceited :/ ). Thanks for reading and commenting :)

**Chapter 17**

The Supreme Kai approached Goku where he stood at the Lookout, gazing with somber features into the Kai's crystal ball. The image of the two youngest demis, embracing on the dark landscape of the faraway planet, glowed on the surface of the glass.

When Supreme Kai had shown up beside him in the moments before their ship crashed, and whisked him away from disaster, Goku had been stunned to find himself at the Lookout, surrounded by family and friends. Piccolo, Dende, Vegeta, Bulma, and Popo kept their distance while Gohan explained to his father why they left the boys to fend for themselves. Goten and Trunks, it seemed, had a lot of issues to work out and the only way the Z-fighters thought they could do it was if their lives practically depended on it; if they were left with nothing and no one else to turn to.

The others had watched, gathered around the crystal ball like a television, as the boys rose from the ashes that day in more ways than one. But nobody had been more surprised than Goku to see the scene unfold. Until then, he had no idea there was any truth to Vegeta's suspicions that the teens were fighting because of their feelings for each other. And now, though he was happy to see the boys reunited, he felt more estranged from Goten than ever.

He turned his gaze to the prince of all Saiyans and his eyes were met by those all-seeing black ones. It was with good reason, Goku supposed, that he'd been the last to know about Goten and Trunks. Until they started fighting, Goku hadn't even really paid attention.

The years he had missed with his family as a result of his choices were never a consequence Goku intended and never something he accepted without remorse. But by the time he returned home from Otherworld ten years ago, Goten already followed his brother around like a puppy; and he had a close friendship with Trunks, just as Gohan always had with Piccolo. As far as Goku could tell, everyone was perfectly happy that way. Indeed, it seemed as though his family had become quite self-sufficient without him.

It was only in hindsight that he recognized his son's recent behavior for what it really was. And, while Goku doubted he'd be winning any Father of the Year awards any time soon, cries for help were his forte. He turned to the purple deity waiting nearby.

"Can you take me to see him, Supreme Kai?"

***

Goten lifted his head from his friend's shoulder abruptly. He stared at a point on the edge of the forest where two shadowy figures took shape. He wouldn't have trusted his eyes, but there could be no doubt who that energy belonged to.

"Dad!" Goten shouted, taking off at a run in Goku's direction. "Dad, I can't believe it! You're okay! We looked everywhere, we—."

"I'm sorry for scaring you, son. I was back on Earth, that's all. Supreme Kai pulled me out of the ship using instantaneous movement."

"Goku, nice of you to show up." Trunks greeted cheerfully as he took his place alongside Goten. Then he cast a judgmental glance at their other visitor. "As for you, thanks for nothing! You know, Goten," the teen addressed his friend, lifting his nose in the air, "this isn't the first time he's saved Goku and left us to die. I'm starting to sense a pattern here."

The pureblood smiled. Only Vegeta's son would talk to the supreme ruler of all life in the universe as if the god owed him something.

"I assure you," Kibito promised, "if you had been in any danger, I would have taken all three of you home with me."

Ignoring the argument, Goten stepped closer to his father. He didn't really care where Goku had been or why Supreme Kai took him away. What mattered was that Trunks had been right. He had a second chance to tell Goku how he felt and he wasn't going to wait.

"Dad?" He stared up at the tall Saiyan. "I've been meaning to tell you that I'm sorry about last week at the lake. I shouldn't have said what I did. I didn't mean it."

"No, you were right to speak up, son." Turning to properly face the boy, Goku put a hand on his shoulder. "You deserve an explanation, Goten. It's just that I'm afraid I don't really have one."

Goku stared into eyes identical to his own. Sure, he could give Goten reasons. But what would they matter? The teen didn't really want answers. He just wanted his dad. And while Goku couldn't make up for the mistakes of the past, he could be the person now that Goten needed him to be.

"Whaddaya say we give this whole father-son thing another try," he suggested. "I promise, I'm really not such a bad guy if you get to know me."

Goten smiled and shook his head. "I'd like that." Then, more animatedly, "I'd really like that."

"Good," Goku began, "cuz we have a lot of catching up to do. Like for starters, when the heck did you guys start kissing!?"

"_Da-ad _. . ." Goten begged his father's discretion as his cheeks colored a deep red.

"Oh, no need to be embarrassed, son! Trunks is a real looker. Just like his mom." He approached the royal demi and slapped one of his shoulders like a stamp of approval. "And strong, too. Like his dad."

Goten only stared at them aghast while Trunks broke into nervous laughter.

"Boy, I could hardly believe it when I saw that! Tell 'em Supreme Kai."

The deity shot a wary smile at Trunks, knowing what was coming.

"What do you mean saw it?" the aforementioned Saiyan demanded, forgetting self-consciousness in favor of suspicion. If Goku and the Kai were anywhere near close enough to see them, he and Goten would've known it.

"When we were watching you on Supreme Kai's crystal ball," Goku announced, oblivious to the offended gasp of his audience. "Oh, yeah, everyone was there! Me, your mom and dad. Hmm, Piccolo and Dende. Mr. Popo and Supreme Kai of course. Oh and Old Kai, too. Man, you shoulda seen the look on _his_ face—."

"Excuse me," Trunks cried finally, "this is not a pay-per-view event!"

But then he felt Goten's hand on his arm and shut up after one look at his friend. Goten was staring at the pureblood apprehensively.

"What about Mom?" Goten swallowed. "Was she—?"

"Listen to me, son," Goku cut him off abruptly. "I know sometimes it's hard to tell, but your mother . . . . She only acts the way she does because she wants the best for you and your brother. Because she loves you very much. And so do _I_, Goten. We want you to be happy. So just leave worrying about your mom to me."

Trunks thought that Goku had rather skillfully avoided the question. But, however Chichi responded to the news, Goku's solemn promise to insulate his son from the negative was all the youngest demi needed to hear. His features relaxed and the fearful look was replaced by one of gratefulness, even pride.

The Capsule heir watched them have their moment, truly happy for his friend. But he was struck by the bittersweet realization that it wasn't only Goku's absences that had caused the rift between them over the years. The secrets he and Goten had been keeping most of their lives did much to isolate them from the others. And whether Goten knew it at that moment or not, in deciding to take his side Goku had already cleared one of the biggest hurdles on their road to a healthy relationship.

Goten became aware of Trunks watching them and it reminded him of something important. "Hey, Dad, was Gohan there, too? Watching the pay-per-view?"

Trunks rolled his eyes.

"Well, sure. The whole thing was his idea, actually."

"Then I need to see to him right away. Can you take me there?"

Goku turned away from him. "What about it, Supreme Kai? Can we get a lift home?"

Kibito bowed in that reverent way he had despite the fact that he was the most venerated of gods. "Of course."

But as the four of them linked arms to prepare for transport, Goku scratched his temple. "Oh, you know, maybe we ought to drop Trunks off first. Bulma's been worried sick about him. I guess she feels pretty bad about sending us all into space on a ship with no wires or brakes or anything. But hey, all's well that ends well, I say!"

***

"You sabotaged our ship!?"

Dawn was breaking at Capsule Corporation when Trunks burst into the kitchen of the main house. The blue-haired woman jumped at the sound of her son's voice while Vegeta, who'd long sensed his approach, calmly shoveled another forkful of breakfast into his mouth.

The teen focused his condemning gaze on his mother and Bulma cringed, thinking that while Trunks certainly had her eyes the glare was all Vegeta. She held her arm out and pointed a finger at the Saiyan prince.

"Your father made me do it!"

"You could have at least shipwrecked them on a planet with increased gravity," the accused complained and Trunks relaxed his posture with a sigh.

"My parents," he gestured at them hopelessly. "My own parents tried to kill me."

Vegeta took a leisurely gulp from his mug. "If I'm trying to kill you, son, you'll know it."

Trunks crossed the room and picked up a shiny red apple from where it sat among some other fruit in a bowl. "Is there even such a thing as black star dragon balls?"

"Of course not," his father answered. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Well, all I can say is . . . ." He tossed the apple into the air and caught it then shot a quick smile at Bulma, much to her relief. "Thanks."

On the next throw, however, Vegeta reached out and snagged the apple from midair above his hand.

"If you want to thank me, you can start by eating your own food."

He bit into the piece of fruit with a loud crunch and Trunks stared blankly at the back of his head. That sound was immediately followed by a cracking noise when the wooden spoon Bulma was holding met her husband's skull.

"What is your _problem_, Vegeta?"

"For gods' sake, the boy can fend for himself! By the time I was his age, I had entire armies under my command. And I did it all without my mother suckling me at her teat."

"Oh, and I bet she would've been real proud of her son – the homicidal maniac!"

"Ugh, humans!" he growled.

"Hey, buddy, I don't know when you last looked at an evolutionary chart but—."

With his parents thus preoccupied, Trunks decided it was time to take his leave. He got the feeling this was like foreplay to them and didn't particularly want to be there for the next round. Besides, he was sure he had dirt in places he didn't even know he ihad/i places and even more than food he really needed a shower.

The sounds of their arguing followed him as he exited the kitchen and headed for the nearest bathroom, taking some comfort in the fact that life was slowly returning to normally abnormal.

***

Gohan dropped another pile of his clothes onto the couch. Wanting to be sure he was at the Lookout in time to meet his dad, he had packed his things hurriedly at the apartment in West City. Then, unable to fall asleep after the rendezvous with the Z-fighters, he decided it was as good a time as any to start settling in to his new home. Now his once neatly pressed outfits were lying in haphazard piles around him and it didn't make this grim task any easier.

He wasn't happy to be back here, in the house he once shared with Videl.

So far away from Trunks.

So unfortunately close to his mother.

But Gohan didn't want to impose any longer on his hosts at the Lookout, where he'd been staying since the previous weekend, so he forced the second thoughts from his mind and returned to folding.

And sorting.

And organizing.

And arranging.

God, was this what his life had been like before? So monotonous and dull?

He was startled from his gloomy thoughts when he felt the energy signals of his father and brother approaching. Standing to greet the two as they materialized in the room, he realized that this was the moment when all he had given up would be worth it. When he saw Goten's smiling face and got that warm, fuzzy feeling that only the happiness of a loved one could bring. When Goten looked him right in the eye and said—.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Gohan!?"

"Er . . . ?"

Goten didn't even wait for his brother to answer. Marching right over to him, he knocked on the other's forehead. It wasn't often that Gohan was wrong and he was right, so Goten figured he'd better play it up while he could. "Anyone home in there?"

"Hey, what's the big idea?" his brother asked, slapping his hand away.

"Why don't you stop me when this rings a bell." Goten began counting off the offenses on his fingers. "Not speaking to Trunks for five days. Almost ruining his big presentation. Breaking up with him in the hallway at work. Oh," Goten added as he glanced around the room, "and moving out behind his back while he's stranded in outer space."

"Now, wait a minute!" the older demi protested. "You've got it all wrong, Goten, I—. I didn't . . . break up with him in the hallway." Gohan faltered, then offered with as much dignity as he could manage, "It . . . was the elevator."

But the elder Son was easily defeated. He'd been so worried about Goten's feelings that he hadn't really thought about what Trunks was going through. And in retrospect he couldn't believe he had rationalized treating a friend so badly.

Especially after—.

"After you slept with him!" Goten noted, as if reading his mind. "Boy when you said you make bad decisions all the time, you weren't kidding, were you, Big Brother?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Goku interjected, waving his arms and regarding the boys with wide eyes. He was trying his hardest to follow along but this was starting to remind him of one of old Master Roshi's romance programs. "I thought that Trunks and _Goten_ were together!"

"Dad, please," the teenager admonished quietly. "That was so three weeks ago."

"But, that kiss—." Gohan was at a loss to interpret his brother's behavior. When Goten had found him and Trunks together, he had seemed devastated by their relationship. Even if he was angry at Gohan for the way he handled breaking it off, now that the boys were back together, hadn't it all been for the best?

"That kiss," Goten informed him bluntly, "was goodbye."

"Goten, I . . . I don't understand."

"That's my point!" The other demi gestured emphatically. "You totally don't get it, Gohan."

His older brother sat back on the arm of the nearby couch. He ran a hand through his hair, and Goten could clearly see the guilt reflected in his charcoal eyes.

"I was only trying to do what I thought was best." Gohan attempted to reassure himself, but all the good intentions in the world could do little to ease his mind right then.

"I know," Goten admitted, and his voice was much more sympathetic this time. He walked over to stand next to the firstborn and nudged him gently. "I know exactly what you were trying to do, Gohan. And you're the best big brother a guy could ever have."

Goten stared at him thoughtfully. Gohan had only been eleven years old when Goten was born and Goku died. But he had accepted the things he couldn't change and filled their father's shoes without complaining. And he had somehow managed to fit raising his kid brother in between graduating with honors and making sure the family didn't starve. Goten realized that, probably long before he was even born, Gohan had willingly sacrificed for the good of others the happy-go-lucky childhood that Goten selfishly clung to even now.

And yet he had never asked for anything in return; and Goten sincerely doubted he had anything to give that could provide his brother the kind of happiness his brother had always provided him.

That was . . . until now.

"Thing is," he mused, "what's best for me and Trunks isn't really for you to decide. The choice was his to make, Gohan. And he chose you."

When Gohan turned to face him, Goten met his eyes without wavering. The youngest Son's expression was open, as it always was. He couldn't hide his emotions the way the others did and Gohan had long ago learned that he could gauge his brother's feelings just by looking at him. Though, search as he might, he could find nothing but contentment in his childlike expression now.

"It's okay, really," the teen insisted preemptively. "I have another relationship I need to be working on right now." Goten glanced sidelong at their dad who returned his optimistic smile. Then he turned back to his brother.

But before the boy could say anything else, Gohan stood up and draped a heavy arm around his neck. He dragged Goten to him and buried his face in the spiky hair. Goten closed one eye as a few stray pieces fell into his face and giggled awkwardly at his brother's overt display of affection.

It seemed to him that Gohan always had some profound thing or other to say; some precious nugget of wisdom to impart. And to see words fail him now was perplexing for the smaller boy. But he happily pressed his cheek into his brother's shirt and tried not to squirm too much while Gohan held tight to him.

When at last he let go, it was only to trap the younger demi in a headlock and rub his knuckles across Goten's scalp, messing up his hair like he did when they were kids.

"C'mon, Gohan! Knock it off!" Goten demanded, attempting to wriggle out of the other's grasp while smacking blindly at his arms. Really though, he was glad for the lighthearted gesture and when the two finally disentangled, it was with matching grins.

"So, let me get this straight," Goku interrupted, a contemplative look on his face. "First Goten was with Trunks and now Gohan is with Trunks. So . . . if Trunks was going to make it a trifecta . . . ." Alarmed, he glanced from one boy to the other. "Then that would mean—!"

Goten leapt toward the older Saiyan. "Nevermind about that, Dad!" He ushered the pureblood toward the door, all the while flashing his teeth at Gohan in a conciliatory smile. "Let's just leave the lovebirds to work things out, mm-kay?" Goten suggested, pushing a blinking Goku onto the lawn.

Once his father was safely outside, Goten waited until he started across the grass for home. He watched Goku disappear through the door to the kitchen but didn't follow just yet. Instead he leaned back into the room, fingering the doorframe. "Hey, Gohan?"

"Yeah?"

"I was just wondering . . . . Can I still run to him with good news and turn to him when it's bad?"

Gohan pressed his lips into a thin line and Goten worried that he had upset his brother by the way he was refusing to speak again. But finally the older demi shook his head. "Of course you can, Goten. Wouldn't have it any other way."

Appeased, the teen turned to leave, but stopped to offer one final piece of advice.

"Good luck, Big Brother. He's not exactly Mr. Forgive-and-Forget, you know." He realized Gohan would have a twice-scorned Trunks on his hands and he really didn't envy the man his task. Though he did think it might be fun to see the demi-Saiyan prince put someone else through the ringer for once. "Hey, just make sure you're not wearing anything he gave you the next time you see him!"

While Gohan contemplated it, his eyes came to rest on the sofa where his clothes still lay in untidy piles. He eyed the mahogany fabric of the only outfit that didn't belong there.

"You know something, Goten? I think I'll make sure that I am."

***

Trunks landed on the balcony of his apartment just after dark. As soon as he'd finished showering, he had passed out from sheer exhaustion in his old bedroom. When he awoke, Vegeta had graciously allowed him to dine with them, commenting that he would need his energy for the next day, when the Saiyan prince would implement his new and improved, ultra-sadistic training program. Bulma had also suggested that Trunks work full-time at the family business starting on Monday to keep him busy until the spring semester began. Then, determining that he'd be spending plenty of time at the Capsule complex as it was, Trunks had once again refused her offer to move back in.

Reaching out now for the handle on the glass door, he automatically scanned the area for Gohan's energy, though he knew the other man wouldn't be there. In order to spare him from finding out the hard way by walking into a half empty apartment, Bulma had told Trunks before he left her house that Gohan had moved out. And, although he hadn't been particularly surprised to hear the news, it somehow stung all the same; especially now, as he stared through the glass into the dark room beyond it.

Opting not to go inside just yet, Trunks lifted off again and floated one story up to the roof of the building. The wrought-iron railing that surrounded it had been decorated with strings of white lights and a few café tables and chairs dotted the rooftop, separated from each other by large potted plants. It would have been a nice place to relax on a moonlit summer night, but now it was deserted, the crisp fall air keeping the building residents inside. Trunks leaned against the railing and looked down at the street below, watching the city move.

He was grateful to be back on Earth and for the familiar sounds of traffic and snippets of conversation echoing off the buildings around him. It was a relief to have his life back – for the most part – even though it wasn't the way he always imagined it would be.

Trunks raised his ki as a cold breeze picked up. It cut through the thin black leather of the waist-cut jacket he wore with D&G indigo washed jeans, both of which had been chosen more for fashion than for warmth. Surrounding himself with the same invisible energy barrier they used for protection from the wind when flying, the demi-Saiyan watched his hand begin to glow faintly. He didn't remember just how much of this energy he could channel at one time until it had been absolutely necessary to do so.

To save Goten.

Trunks stared through his spread fingers and focused on the ground again. The people there were gathering on street corners and popping in and out of shops and bars. Some of them walked alone, some in pairs, and others in groups of three and four. He tried to imagine himself among them, and thought maybe instead of spending the night in his empty apartment, he would go out and try to make some friends. But he had known what it really meant to be one with another person; and somehow being surrounded by others – even the millions of others that this city offered – just didn't compare.

Even if Goten was right and Trunks could have anyone down there that he wanted, he had to wonder, as he rested his elbow on the railing and his chin in his hand, who among them could possibly save _him_.

Lost in his thoughts, the teen jumped at the sound of his own name.

"Trunks?"

When he turned around he was surprised to see his old roommate standing there.

"Uh—Gohan. When did you—?"

Trailing off, he let his eyes roam move over the other man, statuesque as he looked in tailored Italian wool. His jacket was buttoned over a matching vest and the maroon silk of the tie he wore was visible only for a few inches below his neckline. The deep plum color of the fabric set off his dark eyes and hair just as nicely as Trunks remembered and he found he had a sudden, inexplicable craving for chocolate covered cherries – and one juicy piece of eye candy in particular.

He stopped himself before he could actually lick his lips and cleared his throat instead.

"I, uh . . . I didn't know you kept that."

"Yeah," Gohan mused as he looked down at himself. "Neither did I, actually."

"Oh, right." Trunks rubbed the back of his head, remembering how he had slipped the unwanted garment into Gohan's closet a few days after they argued over it. The suit had been custom-fitted after all and it couldn't have looked as good on anyone else, so he didn't see the point of returning it. He figured Gohan would eventually come around and accept it. Or, if not, he'd at least yell at Trunks again when he found it there. It really made no difference to the young prince at the time. He'd have taken attention from his roommate any way he could get it. "Uh, sorry," he offered a belated apology.

"I didn't come here about that."

"Oh."

Trunks closed his eyes briefly and cursed at himself. He remembered a time when he'd made sport of flustering his roommate. And yet this was the second time now that he'd found himself barely able to form coherent sentences in the other man's presence. It was embarrassing!

"Goten told me what happened up there." The older demi glanced skyward and finally the lavender head nodded in understanding. He remembered Goku saying that it was Gohan's idea to send the boys into space in the hopes they'd reconcile. And suddenly he found he had plenty to say.

"So, Goten told you we weren't getting back together and you came here to try and change my mind." Trunks turned his back to his visitor dismissively and, with a bemused snicker, resumed watching the people below. "While I appreciate your concern, Gohan, I'm not quite as useless as you think I am. On occasion, I can _actually_ make a meaningful decision on my own."

But a moment later, the other demi stood directly beside him, resting his hands on the railing and following the teenager's gaze toward the ground. Chilly as he was, Trunks was keenly aware of the warmth he could feel at every point where Gohan's arm touched his, even through the multiple layers of clothing dividing them. He chanced a quick look to his left at the man's profile.

"That's not why I came either."

Gohan sighed. For the second time that week, he found himself at a loss for where to begin the apologies. He had turned his back on Trunks at a time when the other was suffering, simply because he was afraid of the things he felt. The younger demi had called him on that fear from the very beginning; and yet, it was only now that Gohan realized how right his roommate was.

He couldn't help but recognize the metaphor at work as they stood on the rooftop looking down. It was so much safer to watch life happen below than to it was to get out there and live a life of one's own. The latter choice required making a leap of faith, falling, and, most likely, ending up broken and bloody on the pavement.

But Trunks had given him a taste of what he'd been missing; the rush that came from standing right at the edge. And he had finally realized that a life without laughter, and spontaneity, and even tears, well . . . that wasn't really a life at all.

Besides, where had the safe route ever gotten anybody, anyway?

Much to the younger demi's surprise, Gohan grabbed his hand.

"C'mon," he said, jumping up onto the railing and physically pulling Trunks up behind him. The teen scrambled to hoist himself to his feet on the slippery rail as his arm was nearly yanked out of the socket. The soul of one black leather loafer slipped and before he even had time to regain his balance, he felt himself being pulled forward as Gohan – who Trunks firmly decided had lost his mind – leapt off the roof and dragged Trunks behind him.

They plummeted toward the ground and the Capsule heir, in his utter confusion, nearly forgot he could fly until the screams of several of those he'd just been watching snapped him out of his reverie. He pulled up and stopped them both a few feet above the ground, amid the frightened gasps of the humans all around them. Gohan hung from his outstretched arm, feet barely scraping the sidewalk. He gazed up at Trunks and after a moment . . . he smiled.

Trunks shook him off.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" he demanded as he touched down a second later; but Gohan only stared at him with a sort of dazed grin. The other demi knew damned well they weren't supposed to use their powers in front of people unless it was an emergency. And as Trunks glanced left and right at the fearful semi-circle gathering around them he wondered when the hell he had become the level-headed one.

"This is just GREAT," he snapped at Gohan. "I can't wait to see what kind of headlines they come up with for this one." The eldest Son took a step toward him and Trunks backed away. "Why did you even come here, Gohan? If you want to make a spectacle of yourself leaping tall buildings in a single bound, then go dig up your Saiyaman costume and just leave me out of it!"

Angrily, he turned toward the door of his building where the doorman was staring at them in shock. Trunks smoothed his hair and jacket, then gestured at the brass handle of the door expectantly as if there was no reason anyone should be behaving any differently than normal.

Stammering, the man pulled open the door but Trunks barely managed one step toward the lobby when he felt a strong grip on his arm, pulling him back. Inertia spun him around and the teen only had time to gasp shortly before Gohan crushed their mouths together.

"Mmph—!" Out of surprise alone the royal demi protested the kiss, his whole body stiffening in response to Gohan's other arm tightening around his waist. His alert blue eyes darted in the direction of the crowd, but he could already feel the lids growing heavy. And as soon as he closed his eyes, all Trunks was aware of was the heat of Gohan's body pressed against his own and the gentle but insistent tongue seeking entrance to his mouth. His head swam and he granted access rather automatically, melting into the embrace with alarmingly little resistance.

As the boy's body grew heavier in his arms, Gohan let go of his wrist and buried his fingers in the short lavender hair at the nape of the other's neck. Trunks's own arms hung at his sides and he seemed satisfied to let the other man hold him up. His protestations started to sound a whole lot more like whimpers and by the time Gohan pulled himself off the teen, Trunks leaned forward for more, eyes closed and mouth still slack.

"God, I missed you," the dark-haired demi breathed when puzzled blue eyes met his. "Let's get out of here," he suggested and the still-blinking boy stumbled behind as Gohan led him by the hand through the small crowd. When they reached an open portion of sidewalk, they leapt into the air together, quickly leaving the stunned spectators behind.

It took awhile before Trunks found his voice again. "Where are we going?"

Gohan still held his hand and he flew only as far behind the other demi as his outstretched arm would allow.

"Someplace we can talk."

"I take it the rooftop wasn't to your liking."

Gohan smiled but didn't answer. He could feel Trunks glaring at the back of his head and knew the teen was trying to figure out what was going on in there. But he allowed Gohan to lead him through the air, apparently content to stick around until he figured it out.

"The Lookout?" Trunks wondered aloud as the semi-spherical platform came into view. It rapidly grew larger as they approached and it was only a few seconds until they touched down on the white marble tiles.

"Just a quick pit stop," Gohan promised. He held up two hands. "Don't move."

With that he raced toward the palace and entered the kitchen, finding the Lookout's residents there. "Hi, Dende," he greeted. "Hi, Popo. You don't mind if I grab a few things, do you?" Without waiting for an answer, Gohan began rooting through the cabinets and, after a moment, he went to the window. "Hey, Trunks, are you hungry?"

From across the platform, the royal demi shook his head in the negative and Gohan returned to the fridge. He chose only a few select provisions then shrunk them down with a storage capsule.

"Thanks, guys. I'll owe ya one. Oh and I'm taking the blanket from the bedroom I've been sleeping in. I should . . . uh . . . wash it for you!" he offered with barely a wave over his shoulder, leaving the young Namek and his assistant to stare mystified at the door.

But there was one person he couldn't slip anything past.

"What are you two up to?"

The gravelly voice of his mentor was unmistakable and Gohan looked up as he dashed back outside. Piccolo hovered above, seated in a meditative pose, his white cape billowing in the upper atmospheric wind. He stared at them as a parent might a couple of naughty children and Gohan put one hand behind his head with a hereditary Son laugh before he grabbed Trunks's hand and made for the edge. He pulled the royal demi backward, although the boy followed quite willingly. Trunks lifted one hand and waved his fingers at the green man before dropping off the platform after Gohan.

Piccolo snorted as he resumed his mental exercises. Wherever they were going, he had no desire to follow, and he was reminded again how thankful he was to be an asexual creature; not prone to erratic behavior and illogical mood swings at the hands of that absurdity humans called love. But as the Namekian closed his eyes, he smirked nonetheless.

"It's good to see you happy, kid."

***

Trunks watched Gohan spread a goose down comforter on white sand. He leaned back against some large boulders that adorned the crescent-shaped beach the other had chosen as their destination and tapped his fingers on the rock. They had traveled due south and it was just as dark here as it had been in West City, though significantly warmer. But he didn't think that people came to secluded beaches in the middle of the night just to talk. And, while earlier he'd been sure Gohan had lost his mind, it now seemed that he was acting quite deliberately.

Even as his lower body reacted optimistically to the prospect, his other head screamed in protest. Gohan had told him in no uncertain terms that they couldn't be together, and as much as the rest of him might want one more night, his psyche wouldn't make it through another week like the one before. And if Gohan thought he could have his cake and eat it, too - sparing Goten's feelings with a secret romance - the bastard had another thing coming.

It wasn't until the eldest Son turned to him with a start that Trunks realized he was making dust out of the stone under his fingertips. But as long as he had Gohan's attention, "Why did you bring me here?"

The older demi looked surprised as he stood up from the place where he'd been kneeling. He had shed his jacket and tie on the blanket, and rolled up his sleeves now as he regarded Trunks with an artless expression. It immediately made the teen feel bad for his harsh tone of voice, but he held his ground.

"I guess I owe you an explanation for all of this, don't I?"

Trunks crossed his arms with a short sound that indicated that was the least Gohan could do.

"The truth is, I thought it might be a nice place for our first date."

"Our—? What?" The prince halted, caught off-guard by the admission. "Isn't it a little late for that?" He tried his best to be cutting but somehow it didn't come out that way.

"I hope not."

Gohan took a few steps in his direction and Trunks didn't say anything when he reached up to touch his cheek, pushing a few strands of hair behind his ear. "I'm so sorry, Trunks," he whispered. "I know I can't just ask you to forget the last six days. I'm only asking for a chance to make it up to you." His thumb traced the teen's jaw. "Please."

Finally blue eyes met black. "But Goten . . . ."

"Said that you weren't getting back together," Gohan finished, confirming Trunks's original suspicion. "And I told you I didn't come to change your mind."

Trunks stared at him. He had waited for this moment all week; had dreamed about it even. But when he last saw this man, his passionate appeal to Gohan had been met with uncharacteristic coldness and afterward he'd been forced to question his own instincts. He had wondered if all that he once thought he saw in those dark eyes was nothing more than pathetic wishful thinking on his part; the ill-conceived notion of a boy denied affection for too long. And it scared him that Gohan, like Goten, seemed able to turn his feelings on and off at will.

"For whatever it's worth, Trunks, staying away from you all this time has been one of the hardest things I've ever done. And what I said to you in that elevator, it . . . ." The firstborn paused, took a breath and tried again. "It killed me to—."

"Gohan, don't." Trunks shook his head. "Just don't."

He had felt the dull ache those memories could evoke enough in recent days to last a lifetime. But . . . if Gohan had ever cared about him, then Trunks could only imagine how difficult the position was that he found himself in that particular morning; not merely torn between his brother and his lover, but a casualty of their war. And although he couldn't just forget the last seven days, he was sick and tired of dwelling on the past.

Plus, the present was made noticeably brighter by one inescapable fact.

"You're here now."

With one finger, Gohan nudged the other's chin upwards and leaned in close. Trunks could feel lips graze his cheekbone, and if one syllable could express affection, atonement and hope all at the same time, it did when Gohan spoke his name. But as the lips found their way back to his, Trunks stopped the other demi with two hands planted on his chest.

"I need you to promise me something."

"Anything."

"Promise that you won't ever hold back with me again. Do you hear me, Son Gohan? Because I'll give you everything. But in return, I want all of you." He punctuated the sentence with a hard poke to the other's chest. "That's the way it works. Get it? Because if not, you might as well just leave now."

Trunks watched the taller Saiyan as he appeared to think it over, but was annoyed when the decision took longer than he thought it should. "Well?" he challenged. "What's it going to be?"

Gohan lifted one hand in a solemn pledge. "I promise you, Trunks, never again." With his other arm he anchored the young demi firmly to himself, allowing Trunks to pull him under and not caring if he resurfaced. "Starting right now."

Azure eyes closed when soft lips covered his. For as many times as he had thought about them in the last week, Trunks had forgotten how ethereal Gohan's kisses really were. For all the passion behind them, and all the strength the man possessed, his capacity for tenderness was . . . . It was . . . .

Oh, it was maddening!

Trunks held tight to the front of his vest, sliding his hands underneath the silk and gripping it to pull Gohan closer. But the other demi only chuckled, breaking their mouth-to-mouth contact, which was exactly the opposite of what the teen prince intended. He stared at Gohan's lips.

"So impatient," they commented. Then, much to his dismay, the older man pulled away. "Sit, would you?" he gestured toward the blanket then focused a small beam of energy on a pile of driftwood he'd collected earlier.

Trunks seated himself as the flames began to leap into the air, lighting the blanket with moving shadows. There was a forest of palm trees behind them and in addition to the crackling of the fire, their leaves made a rustling sound in the tropical breeze. A bright half-moon shone over the water and the black waves that came ashore here were nothing more than ripples and they lapped at the beach quietly.

The whole thing was really quite romantic, Trunks thought, and he peered at Gohan as he placed a carved wooden tray on the sand and began filling the two glasses on it with champagne.

"What's that for?" he asked, and the older demi shrugged calmly.

"We have a lot to celebrate, don't you think?"

"Yeah," the prince joked uncomfortably, "like how Chichi's gonna hold me singlehandedly responsible for her lack of grandchildren?"

"Well," Gohan considered it as he stood up and rounded the blanket, offering one glass to Trunks before settling down next to him. "If you think she's scary, you should've seen the way Vegeta was looking at me the last time we talked."

He watched Trunks for a reaction but the teen's smile was fading as he traced lines in the sand with the heel of one shoe.

"What's wrong?" Gohan inquired. "Are you really worried about it?"

"No."

He coaxed the other with a nudge of his elbow. "What is it, then?"

"Nothing," Trunks insisted, shifting away.

He was avoiding eye contact now and the older demi sat up straighter, turning to face him with the intent to remind him of their promise not to hold anything back. But now that Gohan looked closer he could see a faint pinkness coloring the other's skin and the problem suddenly struck him.

For all of their sexual escapades, Trunks and Goten had never really been a couple. They had acted on hormones, impulse, and instinct, and outside of those parameters, Trunks wasn't sure what to do. The normally smug Saiyan before him was entirely out of his element.

And it was downright adorable.

"You've never been on a date before, have you?"

"Oh, don't be stupid."

Gohan tried hard not to delight in the other's predicament, but the rare show of reticence made the teen all the more alluring.

"Why don't you drink your champagne?" he suggested. "It'll relax you."

Trunks looked at him as if to say he didn't need Gohan's pointers, but lifted the glass to his lips nonetheless. When he took a sip, Gohan tapped the bottom of the glass playfully, spilling bubbly liquid down the prince's chin. But before he could be angry, Gohan kissed the droplets off his face and followed the sugary trail right down his neck. He could hear Trunks's breathing slow and felt him begin to relax again almost immediately.

It seemed the teen was all too easy to placate and Gohan was thankful; considering the need would probably arise quite often.

He ran his left hand along the tense muscles beneath the boy's jacket before sliding it off of one shoulder. Trunks shrugged out of the other sleeve and leaned backwards, reclining onto the blanket and taking Gohan with him. The elder Son allowed his hand to continue wandering, enjoying the way Trunks unwound under his fingers. And when he leaned back, stretching out on the blanket beside the younger demi, the once stormy blue eyes were already glassy.

By the time Trunks smiled up at him, more than a trace of that smugness had returned. "Cheers," he said, emptying the remainder of the champagne over the front of his jeans.

Gohan shook his head in mock disappointment. Patience would never be one of the young prince's virtues.

"Oh, Trunks," he teased, trying his best to sound sympathetic as he pressed his lips to the other's ear. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, my friend. . . but I plan on taking my time with you."


	18. Chapter 18

MK08 – Thank you so much for your review. It means worlds to me! I really have put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears (mostly tears, haha) into this story and it's wonderful to know you got so much out of it. I'm glad you liked the involvement of Piccolo and Vegeta. I couldn't leave them out; they're 2 of my favorite characters ;)

Vegeta and Bulma Fan – Glad you liked it! I really made you wait long this time. Hope it will be worth it.

**Chapter 18**

It felt like they had been kissing for hours and that was just fine with Trunks. He loved kissing and, besides, Gohan was good at it. Really good.

They had decided to take advantage of the tropical weather and take a midnight dip in the temperate waters of the South Pacific. Now the two stood on one of many sandbars in the shallow sea surrounding the beach, their naked legs intertwined under the water. With his arms wrapped around the taller demi's neck, Trunks's toes barely skimmed the sand beneath.

Out here, there was only the endless black ocean, the sound of moving water, and the moon shining down on it all, illuminating the crest of each miniature wave so that it sparkled. Trunks wasn't sure whether it was the cool water lapping at his skin that gave him chills or the way Gohan's tongue traced his upper lip.

"Mmm, why'd you stop?" he asked when the older man pulled away.

"You're distracted."

"I'm not."

"You are."

Gohan couldn't help but stare as, at length, a guilty smile graced the prince's features. With his wet hair matted against his head, slicked back away from his face, he looked . . . different somehow. Older. Much less like the little boy Gohan had grown up with and more like the man he was becoming.

"I'm curious whether you've been playing hard to get all this time just to make me crazy," the teen admitted. "I can't help but wonder where all your righteous reservations are now."

Gohan smiled meekly. "To be honest, Goten deserves the credit for my change of heart. He's the one who finally made me realize what an ass I was being."

"If that's all it took, I could've told you weeks ago that you were being an ass."

Gohan cringed, though he knew he deserved it. "No need for name-calling. I promised I'd make it up to you and I meant that."

The prince's eyes sparkled; challenging. "And how do you propose to do that?"

"Well," Gohan nudged him playfully under the water with his hips. "Let's just say I'm pretty sure that by the time the sun comes up tomorrow I can repay my debt to you in full iwith/i interest."

"So you think you can buy me off with cheap sex?"

"Yes," the other answered, matter-of-factly. "Yes, I do."

Trunks raised an eyebrow, looking with extraordinary scrutiny upon the elder Son. Finally he smiled. "I guess you know me pretty well then."

"You're a nineteen-year-old boy. You're not so hard to figure out."

"Yeah, well, I just hope you can keep up with me, Old Man."

"Oh," this time Gohan laughed, "I don't think it's me who needs to worry."

His dark eyes, though warm, were clouded with something that made the prince shiver. He swallowed, thinking of the last time he heard Gohan use that I-know-something-you-don't-know tone. If memory served, he had ended up unconscious on the floor of the gravity room.

Before Trunks knew it, they were approaching the shore, and he tripped over himself as the sand sloped rapidly upwards toward the beach. When he faltered, Gohan caught him, his arms like steel and the rest of his body just as hard. This time when Gohan kissed him, Trunks could feel his blood rush; hear it in his ears. It warmed skin that was still cold from the water, and his body broke out in goose bumps all over.

But uncertainty overcame desire as they toppled onto the blanket and the teen stiffened, stopping the other in his tracks with a serious whisper.

"Gohan."

He looked up at the dark-haired demi and Gohan pushed himself up on his arms, suddenly worried he was rushing the teen. It had become clear in retrospect that the last time they were together, Trunks was far from ready to move on and Gohan wondered if, in his eagerness to make amends, he had somehow missed the same signs again. Come to think of it, hadn't the other mentioned something about taking things slower this time around?

But the younger boy had no objection to the situation he found himself in. He only wondered how, against all odds, they had gotten here. Despite his meaningful chat with Goten in space, the brothers' apparent discussion on the topic, and Gohan's minimal explanation regarding his change of heart, Trunks was still having trouble wrapping his mind around everything. During the last week he had convinced himself that he was utterly alone in his misery while the two Sons moved on, only too happy to leave him behind. But he was beginning to understand that it hadn't been so simple for either of them.

And he just had to know, "Did you think of me at all? This week while you were gone?"

Gohan reached up to touch Trunks's wet hair, dragging the lavender strands across his forehead. He wondered if he could tell Trunks, without sounding completely obsessive, how many times he'd thought about that hair in the last week – the way it fanned out on the prince's pillow when he slept or the way it felt between his fingers. The way it framed those impossibly blue eyes.

"I never stopped thinking about you," he answered finally and his companion smiled.

"And what _exactly_ did these thoughts entail?"

"I'll tell you when you're older."

Trunks rolled over so that it was Gohan who was pinned to the blanket. The moonlight made his pale skin look like alabaster and Trunks traced the perfectly molded lines of his chest, thinking the elder Son could've been carved right out of the stuff. He explored the same pathways with his tongue and salty drips of ocean water mixed with the taste of the other's skin. The effect was intoxicating.

As he worked his way back to Gohan's mouth, he guided the other demi's hand downward until it cupped one flawlessly rounded cheek. He had been thinking about Gohan, too, and he wasn't willing to wait any longer to make those fantasies a reality. Besides, the older demi didn't have to tell Trunks what he was thinking. The way he looked at the prince just then told him everything he needed to know.

While Gohan's hands wandered, Trunks set his mouth to work on the other's neck, going rather automatically for that sensitive bit of skin just below his earlobe. Surprisingly or not, Gohan moaned softly at the contact, turning his head to allow for better access, and Trunks couldn't help but smile against the skin.

He stifled his amusement quickly but not before the elder Son noticed.

"Something funny?" His voice was husky.

"Oh, it's nothing but a little family resemblance is all."

Gohan groaned, rolling his eyes. "I'm sorry I asked." He had come to terms with the boys' extensive history, but he didn't particularly want to imagine his baby brother in the same position that he was in now. Eager to get the image out of his head before it could ruin the moment entirely, he slid out from under Trunks, leaving him face-down on the blanket. "Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?"

When the teenager stifled another giggle, Gohan slapped a palm over his mouth. "_Don't_ answer that," he instructed, leaning down to whisper into his hair.

The playful mood changed swiftly as the older demi used his knee to spread Trunks's legs. The boy rubbed against him, riding the muscular thigh that slipped further between his own. He had his eyes closed, the sounds he was making muffled by Gohan's palm, and the elder Son couldn't ignore the way it made his own groin ache. He had to admit that he loved Trunks like this; abdicating the control he so relished outside the bedroom.

He worked his way worshipfully down the other's spine with his lips, blazing a fiery trail along the cool skin. When he let go of the teen, Trunks stretched out beneath him like a cat and Gohan paused to drag his tongue upwards along the small of his back. From the way the prince shuddered as he did so, it was clear that this was one of his more sensitive, if less obvious, erogenous zones. He paid particular attention to that place, teasing the shallow dimples at the base of his spine and admiring the younger Saiyan's all-over tan.

The boy was like hard candy and he wanted nothing more than to taste him from the inside out.

Every inch of Trunks's skin was tingling by the time Gohan's tongue slipped into the crease between his legs and he whimpered at the contact, at once so gratifying and so frustratingly insufficient. He lifted himself higher off of the blanket, encouraging the warm, wet probing but squirmed all the same, unable to decide whether he wanted to escape or wanted more. The firstborn decided for him, strong hands wrapping around his ankles, forcing his legs apart as surely as they held him in place. Not an inch of skin was spared and, primed as he was, Trunks could feel every breath the other took against his body.

Gohan pressed as deeply as he could, frustrated as the younger boy with the shallow penetration. The way the other trembled at the tip of his tongue only made Gohan want to ravage him more and he feasted on the teen as a Saiyan would any meal: with utter abandon and an insatiable appetite.

Trunks gasped when a particularly violent tremor shook his body. Opening his eyes, Gohan stared up the boy's spine where his shoulder blades lifted and fell with each breath. His right arm jerked as he milked the last drops of orgasm.

"Well, that was fast."

"No worries," Trunks breathed. "There's tons more where that came from."

The kid was positively shameless; though Gohan thought in this particular context it was one of his sexier qualities. He watched Trunks sit up on his knees, reach back and push now-slippery fingers inside himself. It was an erotic sight, watching the other prepare for him – especially when he closed his eyes and licked his lips like that – and Gohan's appreciation for the display was evident.

He grabbed the teen's hips, digging demanding fingers into the flesh. Something about Trunks's willing submissiveness spoke to every instinct that told him to dominate; every cell inside him that was still untamed primate and he was driven by a force he didn't entirely understand and very rarely acknowledged. He always had to be so careful with Videl, even during their most passionate encounters, and there was an undeniable sense of freedom in the realization that the same concerns were non-existent with Trunks.

The royal demi could feel the hardness of the other's erection at his back. He grasped it with one hand, guiding Gohan between his legs. The slick substance that coated him made it easy for the older man to slip inside. He didn't, though; only moving up and down along that inviting trail, prolonging the moment.

Wanting to hear the other ask him for it.

Trunks arched so that he could reach Gohan's ear, whispering one quiet command – two whole syllables – punctuating the sentence with his tongue and dropping onto all fours in case the message wasn't entirely clear.

He forced himself relax as much as possible, silently talking himself through it as the elder Son breached the entrance. It wasn't exactly his fledgling experience, but Gohan was bigger than his little brother and Trunks hadn't known before their first time together how much difference a little surface area could make.

Plus, his partner didn't seem quite so patient this time around.

The teen gritted his teeth at the burning sensation and it seemed an eternity before he felt the other's hips connect with his own.

Gohan had all the enthusiasm of a boy scout tempered by the precision of a perfectionist and it wasn't long before his punishing pace had Trunks feeling dizzy, barely aware enough of his own pathetic moans to have the sense to muffle them with a fistful of goose down. Something about the curve, the thickness, the rock solid hardness of the other's cock hit a spot inside him never before explored and at this rate it wouldn't be long before he was up two-zero on his partner.

Gohan would've thought he was hurting the younger boy except for the way Trunks began pushing back against him, arms stretched out on the blanket, hands gripping the comforter tightly. The drops of ocean water on his skin had been replaced by beads of concentration and his body shone enticingly in the moonlight. He ran one hand up the royal demi's back, entangling it in his hair to pull him up so they knelt facing the palm trees. The angle increased the intensity of everything Trunks was feeling and he fought to maintain control, clenching his jaw around one tightly balled fist to keep quiet.

Gohan realized that years of secrecy would have conditioned him to be silent, but there was no need for restraint in this deserted place. And, besides, something irrational inside him wanted Trunks to know that he wasn't in Goten's bed anymore.

He took the teenager's hand from his mouth and held it behind his back, twisting only enough to let Trunks know that struggle would be pointless. With his other arm around the royal demi's waist, there was nowhere for Trunks to go and the relentless pounding wrested ever more urgent cries from his throat.

When he finally uttered those magic words, he made Gohan's name sound like a plea for release; one the dark-haired demi could not refuse. He traced the prince's jaw with his fingers, turning Trunks to face him. An endearing blush covered the younger one's cheeks and he reached for Gohan's mouth with his own despite the unnatural angle.

Losing himself to carnal impulse, the elder Son attacked his lips until he tasted blood on his tongue, felt it trickle between their chins, and heard the prince's muffled cry as once again hot liquid spilled down his shaft, decorating his thighs. Gohan withdrew, his own orgasm dripping from Trunks's body and over his knuckles.

The teen's legs were trembling by the time they collapsed onto the blanket together, Trunks with slightly less grace than Gohan.

"That was uh—. Amazing," his voice was shaky.

Gohan touched his lips to Trunks's forehead, kissing the feverish skin there and barely registering the compliment. Not very long ago he'd been sure they'd never be together again and he was already wondering what he would've done if that was the case. Somewhere along the line being around the prince had become an addiction and like a junkie craving a fix, moderation wasn't an option.

Trunks rolled onto his back, as the other licked his way along the chiseled contours of his abdomen. He whimpered when Gohan bypassed the neglected shaft, going instead for his inner thighs, hooking one leg over his shoulder. He suckled the sensitive skin there, collecting drops of climax where they had rained down on the boy's legs.

Trunks swooned when those lips finally wrapped around his cock. He was quickly getting used to vocalizing his pleasure and showered the other with passionate words of encouragement. Gohan's mouth was so hot and the feeling spread through him like there was magma in his veins. He entangled his fingers in the other's hair and couldn't help but rock his hips as he buried the toes of one foot in the sand. "Gohan, mmm . . . . Don't stop . . . ."

The younger demi didn't have the same inhibitions the older one did and he gave himself over to the corporeal entirely, easily leaving everything else behind. Not seeing, not thinking, only feeling; and it was easy to see what made the prince so sensual. He needed this, Gohan realized. Adoration. Intimacy. Connection. It was his way of escaping himself and he needed it almost as much as he needed to breathe.

Gohan still had one leg draped over his shoulder when he pulled himself up the other's torso and kissed his lips.

"You ready for the next installment?"

"Oh, sweetheart, I thought you'd never ask."

Goten stood in front of a thin whitewashed door in a bright hallway. It was a Sunday morning at WCU and the dorms were just beginning to come to life. He could hear the sounds of female voices inside and all around. He listened to the steady din for a moment while he hesitated, then knocked three times on the door.

When it opened, the bright smile that greeted him quickly faded.

"Goten," Tiffany observed with disappointment. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I just came to apologize, Tiffany." The demi-Saiyan pushed his bangs away from his face. "I feel really bad about the way everything happened between us."

She crossed her arms over her bare stomach, visible beneath the short shirt she wore. Since it seemed that at least she wasn't going to close the door in his face, Goten continued.

"I've been going through a lot of stuff this semester. But I never should have gotten you involved and I'm sorry."

"Goten?"

He looked to his right where Kim had just exited the community kitchen that was next door to their dorm room. She was dressed in jeans and a WCU sweatshirt, eating a bagel. She wiped some cream cheese from her bottom lip with the back of her hand and, suddenly self-conscious, tossed the rest of the bagel into the trash can by the door.

"Ah!" Goten gasped, holding his hand out. "If you weren't going to eat that, I—."

"Is food all you ever think about?" Tiffany cried. "I believe you were in the middle of apologizing to me."

"Oh, yeah," Goten agreed. "It's just that I'm going to be in class again starting on Monday and I don't want there to be any hard feelings between us. I think you're a really great person and I hope we can still be friends."

The blonde sighed then shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, sure. I guess so."

"Great," Goten smiled.

"So you're . . . coming back?" Kim hoped her voice wouldn't betray how happy she was to hear that.

"Uh huh. Oh," Goten bit his bottom lip. "I could really use some help catching up on last week's assignments. I mean, if you wouldn't mind."

"Yeah! I mean no. Of course I wouldn't. Mind, that is." Kim closed her eyes for a moment, praying that her face didn't look as warm as it felt.

"Thanks."

Tiffany leaned against the door frame twisting a lock of golden hair between her fingers. "Why don't you just ask your smarty pants best friend to help you?"

"Tiff," Kim shot her a warning glare, knowing that Trunks must be a sore subject for Goten. "He doesn't go to school here anymore, remember?"

"Oh, right." The blonde sounded bored. "I forgot. Not all of us stalk the kid twenty-four seven."

"I don't stalk him!" Kim insisted defensively. "We really _did_ have plans on Friday night."

The Capsule heir had never shown up to meet her for drinks and, to her great embarrassment, Kim ended up walking out of the restaurant bar alone after waiting for over an hour. Most of her friends didn't believe her in the first place when she'd turned down plans with them to meet up with Trunks and she felt like an idiot when she showed up at the dorms alone, confirming their suspicions.

Goten's already big brown eyes widened. "No way. _You_ were the dinner date?" He couldn't help but laugh, sure that his brother would be exceptionally happy to hear that.

"What's so funny?" Kim demanded.

"Sorry." His apology was sincere. "I'm sure Trunks felt really bad about not making it. But actually something important came up and we had to go out of town for a while."

The coed blinked at him, confused. Why was Goten talking about Trunks so casually? Had they really been together on Friday night? Only the night before that, the lavender-haired boy told her that they couldn't be in the same room without violence erupting.

"Ew!" Tiffany chimed in again, interrupting her thoughts. "So he really did stand you up – and to hang out with Goten, no less!" She shot a dismissive glance at their visitor. "You know, I wouldn't sweat him so much if I were you, Kim. I'm really starting to think that kid is gay."

The dark-haired girl put a palm to her forehead. "I don't 'sweat' him, Tiff. I just—ugh. Nevermind."

Before the conversation could continue Goten became aware of someone approaching from behind. He spun to face a tall, muscular guy wearing a football uniform. The new arrival ran a hand through his sandy blond hair and Goten involuntarily took a step back. The uniform smelled like it had been through more than a few games without a good wash.

"Hi, Tad!" Tiffany beamed as she pushed Goten aside to pounce on the other man. She rested her forearms on his chest and gazed up adoringly. "How was practice?"

"Awesome, babe. Coach made us run until we threw up."

"That's gross," the blonde informed him, but forgot about the offensive comment quickly enough. She batted long eyelashes at him. "I hope you still have a ilittle/i energy left."

"Oh, you know it." The new guy winked.

Tiffany crinkled her nose in Goten's direction. "Not here," she said. "Can we go to your dorm?"

"I don't think so, babe. My roommates are all home."

"Oh, you're so silly, sweetie," she pushed him off toward the nearby elevator. "That's even better."

Goten tilted his head as he watched them walk away.

"It was really sweet of you to stop by," Kim said wryly as she joined him at the door to their room. "But, alas, as you can see, she'll live to screw another day."

The demi-Saiyan couldn't help the snort that escaped as he tried not to laugh. But in his head, he chastised himself. No matter how quickly Tiffany had moved on, it still wasn't right what he'd done to her. In retrospect, he realized he only kissed her that day in the library because it had become clear that Trunks wouldn't let him go without a fight. A fight that Goten desperately wanted to avoid and, knowing how possessive the other boy was, betrayal seemed his only surefire way out. It was cowardly and unfair and he had seriously hurt two people he cared about in the process; one much more than the other.

"Hey, Goten?" Kim was unable to keep her curiosity at bay. "What happened between you and Trunks? It's just that the last time I talked to him it sounded like your friendship was over for good, and now—."

"I'll tell you the whole story," he promised with a smile. "But can we get lunch first? I'm starving."

She agreed, disappearing into her room for a moment to retrieve her cafeteria card and key, then locked the door behind them. The two started toward the stairs, which would be faster than waiting for the elevators, but at the idea of Trunks and Goten spending any amount of time together, a startling thought occurred to Kim.

"Uh . . . Trunks didn't say anything to you about . . . about ime/i. Did he?"

The demi-Saiyan blinked. "Like what?"

"Oh, nothing," Kim waved it off with a relieved sigh, thinking their mutual friend might have actually managed to keep his big mouth shut for once. She paused, though, as they entered the stairwell. "Oh, and Goten . . . ."

"Yes?"

"When you say you had to go out of town, it wasn't by any chance to . . ." she rapidly spilled out the rest of the words, feeling silly, but needing to know the answer, "to visit your alien father's home planet – or something like that – was it?"

He looked at her like she had two heads and started to laugh. "Of course not!"

"Oh, thank god!" The coed slapped two hands over her heart, then reached for the banister to follow Goten. He headed toward the bottom taking the stairs two by two.

"I dunno where you'd get an idea like that," he noted as an afterthought, shouting over his shoulder. "Everybody knows that planet blew up decades ago."

Gohan's damp hair stuck to his forehead as he landed heavily on his back on the blanket and Trunks collapsed on top of him. The sun was already high above the horizon and the palm trees no longer offered any protection from its rays. He closed his eyes against the bright light and felt sweat trickle down his temple. He was sure Trunks could hear his heart pounding as he carelessly trailed a few fingers through messy hair. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so exhausted - or so thankful for Saiyan endurance. But the sun that beat down on them meant their passionate reunion was necessarily coming to an end.

"We'd better get back to West City," he observed, still breathless, opening one eye to squint at the sky. "Trunks," he squeezed the other's shoulder. But when he received no response, he glanced down at the teen. His eyes were closed and his breathing – hot and heavy only a few moments ago – was peaceful and even.

"Whoa, kiddo, you can't sleep now."

The boy groaned and rolled off of him, wrapping himself in the white comforter. Gohan didn't particularly want to move either; but if he didn't get Trunks back for training there would be hell to pay and he didn't want to see the young prince painted black and blue again. With some effort, he pushed himself to his feet and fished Trunks's hand from the blankets. He pulled, but the other was like dead weight and made no move to get up.

"C'mon, Gohan," he whined, his voice muffled by the cover. "I didn't sleep at all last night."

"I know. I was there."

Trunks pulled the blanket off his head, smiling sleepily as he stared up at the older man. "_Yeah_ ya were."

"Alright." Gohan dropped onto one knee, exasperated, and prepared to toss the royal demi over his shoulder if he had to. "C'mon, Sleeping Beauty. You know how Vegeta feels about punctuality."

But at the mention of his father's name, Trunks sat bolt upright, knocking the firstborn on his backside. He blinked panicked blue eyes and, here and there, strands of violet hair stood on end. "What time is it?"

Gohan rubbed his jaw where the teen's hard head had hit it. He forgot just how well that little trick worked. Though Trunks was decidedly cute when half asleep and in mortal fear of Vegeta.

"We still have time. But I was thinking we might get something to eat on our way back. I won't hand you over to him on an empty stomach again."

The prince yawned, relieved, then leaned back on his hands. "Aww. No breakfast in bed this morning?"

"No way," the elder Son bristled, standing and pulling Trunks to his feet as well. "No offense, kid, but I'm not letting you out of my sight this time."

Within moments, they were in Trunks's bedroom at the apartment. "Hey, nice!" Gohan exclaimed, looking down at his feet. "I even got the blanket!"

The Capsule heir slapped a palm to his forehead. "ITing with you is a disaster waiting to happen," he grumbled. Turning in the direction of the bathroom, he kicked a red-orange crab that was scampering sideways across the floor back toward Gohan, who bent down to pick it up.

"Don't mind him," the older man explained quietly when the sound of the shower water reached him. "Trunks is always cranky in the mornings."

"I heard that!"

Fifteen minutes later, the royal demi appeared in the dining room fresh and clean, wearing black unisex yoga pants and a blue sleeveless shirt. His own name was printed in yellow block letters across the front. Gohan sat a large bowl of scrambled eggs with cheese on the table and a plate piled high with buttered toast right next to it. His bedroom and bathroom were now empty, so he had prepared breakfast while waiting to use Trunks's shower.

"Mmm. Is that crabmeat I taste?" The teen's question was muffled by a mouthful of eggs. He was famished and had shoveled another half-dozen forkfuls into his mouth by the time he turned his eyes to the chef. "Hey, those are my underwear."

Gohan was clad in a pair of blue boxer-briefs Trunks was sure he recognized. He tilted his head to get a better view.

"Yeah, I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all . . . ." He kept staring as he licked melted cheese off his fork.

"I'll have to borrow your soap and towels, too. All of my things are back at Mount Paozu," Gohan explained. He hoped that Trunks would invite him to move back in, though they hadn't really had a chance to discuss it yet. With an expectant grin, he decided to just throw it out there. "I . . . was considering going to get some of them today while you're training. What do you think?"

The statement got the younger boy's attention and he lifted his gaze to meet Gohan's eyes, though the older demi couldn't read his expression. Shortly, Trunks turned to survey the rest of the apartment. Much of the furniture Bulma had bought specifically for the place, but there were noticeable vacancies where Gohan had removed wall art and other personal items. The cherry wood shelves that surrounded their flat screen TV were conspicuously void of books and photos. Only a few randomly placed candles and some video game discs remained.

Had Gohan really cleaned out every one of his things? Not even a pair of underwear left in the apartment? Not a single bar of soap?

Even as Trunks pushed his plate away and headed down the hall toward his roommate's old bedroom, he knew he was being ridiculous. His mother had told him exactly what to expect we he got home, and he had prepared himself for it the night before. But for some reason in the light of day things always seemed so much more stark and undeniable; and that reality stared him in the face as Gohan's bedroom door opened.

With no curtains on the windows, bright morning light poured into the room, illuminating its spotless, empty corners. When Trunks felt Gohan's hand on his shoulder, he shrugged it off, refusing to meet the other's eyes.

It wasn't that he was mad. It was fear that was blurring his vision as he stared at the opposite wall. Growing up a superhero had a funny way of making a person feel invincible, but Trunks had recently learned the hard way that he was anything but. The thought of being hurt again was terrifying, and even though Gohan had the same uncanny ability as his father to make everyone around him feel safe and protected, it suddenly occurred to Trunks that the elder Son might be no more careful with his feelings than his little brother had been. The sight of the empty room reminded him just how close he'd come to losing it all and he supposed that, after the night they'd just spent together, his emotions were particularly raw.

"Trunks." Gohan's tone was soft and apologetic, though he didn't attempt to touch the boy again. "If I come back here – that is, if you want me to – I don't want it to be as just your roommate, okay? I want to do things right this time around." He paused and Trunks glanced at him, his eyes giving Gohan hope that he was at least listening. "Maybe we could look at this like a new start," he suggested. "Rather than bringing all my old stuff back, we could even go out and buy some new stuff. Redecorate, you know? Together."

Even if it was only furniture, getting rid of some of the baggage of their past relationships had to be a good thing, Gohan thought, and his optimism rose as Trunks raised an eyebrow.

"Really?"

Gohan nodded. "Yeah."

"Could . . . we go with a contemporary Asian motif?"

"Huh? Oh, sure," the elder Son shrugged accommodatingly. "Whatever you want."

"Well . . . ." Blue eyes swept the room. "I'd like dark furniture. Something minimalist and urban. Maybe with shoji screens on the windows and—. Come to think of it, I saw this one designer on 'MTV Cribs' who specializes in—."

Gohan drowned him out, scratching the back of his head nervously. He'd been imagining a new bed and maybe a throw rug or two and he vaguely wondered whose money Trunks was planning to spend on this famous and sought-after designer. But he couldn't exactly take the offer back now.

A pointed stare interrupted his thoughts as though the other boy could read them. "I'm assuming, of course, that money is no object."

"Uh, right . . . of course not."

"And when we're done," Trunks decided, sounding more excited already, "we'll have a big dinner party so that everyone can see what great taste we have and how fantastic we are."

"Heh . . . ." Gohan eyed him dubiously. He would have to remember in the future that there was really no such thing as 'giving an inch' with Trunks. But for now, he was just glad to have avoided disaster.

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed with as much enthusiasm as possible, steering the teen back toward the table. When Trunks had settled happily into his chair and served himself another helping of eggs, Gohan cautiously continued. "Anyway . . . do you have a shirt I could borrow for now? I think my pants from yesterday can be salvaged but the rest is a mess."

Trunks thought about it for a moment. "I have a striped polo in my closet that would match. Look for the maroon and white one. It should fit you."

"Thanks."

He pushed his chair back on two legs and watched Gohan make his way down the hall in the opposite direction. "You could always leave your clothes at Mount Paozu, too, you know," he shouted after the other man. "While we're redecorating, might as well revamp your wardrobe, right?"

Gohan smiled, being sure to keep his back to the dining room.

"Quit while you're ahead, Trunks," he warned, pushing open the teen's bedroom door. But his smile faded as he walked to the bathroom and got in the shower, turning his attention to his next major feat of diplomacy. He had a sinking feeling that his mother wouldn't be nearly so easy to appease.

"So he ended up with Gohan." Bulma spoke behind the ceramic mug she was sipping from. She'd stepped out onto the large balcony at Capsule Corp. to enjoy her third cup of coffee that morning and saw the boys touch down on the lawn near the gravity room. She didn't fail to notice that they came from the direction of Trunks's apartment. Neither one knew she was there by the looks of it, and she smiled as she watched them exchange awkward goodbyes.

After they had whispered some words she couldn't hear, Trunks lifted one hand to see the other off at the same time that Gohan bent down to peck him on the lips. It was clear her son wasn't expecting it and he glanced away at the last moment, nearly causing the older demi to miss his mark. She could see both of them smile and try again, Trunks hesitating noticeably before lifting his chin to briefly meet Gohan's. She giggled to herself, remembering exactly what those days felt like; though for Bulma they were a long time ago now.

"He's a little old for the boy, don't you think?" came a voice from behind.

"Oh, I don't know, honey." She shot a critical look in his direction. "To be honest, I'm a little bit jealous. Gohan seems very romantic." The Saiyan prince didn't take the bait, only rolling his eyes as if to tell her not to expect any dramatic overtures from him anytime soon. "Besides," she continued, "I thought when you were Trunks's age, you were commanding entire armies and all—."

Vegeta cut her off impatiently with a wave of his hand. Damned woman had a fine selective memory. She was right, though, even if he wouldn't admit it.

Looking at Trunks, he almost couldn't believe what his own life had been like at that age. Though technically an adult, the teen seemed far too young to have seen the things that Vegeta had seen by then. To have done the things he had done. Maybe the pureblood was as guilty as Bulma of pampering him; but who could blame him for trying to give his son the uncorrupted youth he himself had never known?

That was all it was that made him narrow his eyes in the direction of the dark-haired demi as he disappeared toward the countryside.

Not some ridiculous daddy's-little-girl mentality.

Not in the least.

With an annoyed growl, Vegeta jumped the balcony rail, forgetting about Gohan and deciding to take his hostility out on Trunks. He was likely the one to blame for all this anyway. Much like both his mother and his father, he wasn't big on taking 'no' for an answer and, Vegeta supposed, at least in this time line Gohan had the decency to wait until he was legal.

Trunks was oblivious to his father's approach, confirming Vegeta's suspicions that he was tired and distracted, two conditions that were inexcusable in battle. The Saiyan prince got his attention by swiping his feet out from under him so that Trunks landed on his stomach with a huff.

"Ow . . . ."

Vegeta planted one clean, white boot between his shoulder blades and leaned down on his knee. "One thousand push-ups. Now."

"Geez, Dad. Just give me one second to get—."

"Make it ten!"

The teenager clenched his jaw but remained silent and after a moment planted his palms on the ground.

"One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . ."

"Who said you could use both hands? Start over."

"One . . . two . . . three . . . ."

Bulma wiped her hands on her pink apron when the telephone rang. The enormous lunch she was making was almost ready and not a moment too soon. Trunks would be finished training before long and with any luck, she could bribe him to stick around a while with a home-cooked meal. She had to admit it wasn't only concern for the teen that had prompted her to invite him to move back home. It was just too quiet around there without him. And, while she was happy to see Trunks becoming more self-sufficient, a small part of her missed the days when he relied on her for almost everything.

For a mother, it seemed, watching her baby grow up was almost as difficult as it was rewarding. She had to force the sentimental thoughts from her mind as she picked up the phone.

"Bulma here."

"Where is my son?" the caller demanded. "Where is Gohan? You'd better tell me if he's there!"

"I don't know, Chichi," Bulma cried, the other woman's angry tone putting her immediately on the defensive. "What in the world is wrong?"

"That delinquent little brat of yours is what's wrong!" The younger of the two paused to sob loudly. "He has completely turned my Gohan against me!"

"Chichi, you're not making any sense. Trunks would never do anything to come between you."

This wasn't the first irate phone call she'd gotten from Chichi on account of her son but it was hard to imagine what Trunks could've done to anger her today when, to the best of Bulma's knowledge, he hadn't been anywhere near Mount Paozu.

"Oh, let's be honest," Chichi's tone dripped with repugnance. "From what I can tell, there aren't a whole lot of things he _wouldn't _do for a cheap thrill. You should have known he would turn out this way when you sent him to those all-boys private schools!" she wailed.

"Ooh! You'd better watch your mouth!" the blue-haired woman warned, her voice wavering with the effort it took to keep her temper in check. Goku's wife wasn't at the Lookout with the rest of the crew two nights before to witness the boys' reunion. Gohan hadn't thought she would handle it well and that suspicion must have been confirmed today. Bulma remembered that Gohan was headed in the direction of home when he took off from Capsule earlier that morning and it was easy to imagine what had happened.

The older woman's knuckles turned white as she gripped the phone tighter, trying to remind herself that – as ignorant as Chichi was – she must have somehow believed she was protecting her children.

"It's disgraceful," Chichi continued. "And if you won't put a stop to it, I will! Oh, my gosh," she exclaimed as though she'd only just realized the true horror of the situation. "If Videl ever finds out about this, it'll ruin any chance Gohan has of getting her back—."

"Why would you want him to get back with her?" Bulma shouted, cutting in as her anger erupted. "Your ex-daughter-in-law is a liar and a cheater who doesn't give a damn about your son. And if that's the kind of person you want him to be with, then I have to wonder how much iyou/i care about him and how much you're thinking of yourself. I don't know why you can't just be happy for them."

"Happy for them? You act as if they're in a proper relationship!" Chichi spat. "Well let me tell you something, Bulma – Gohan is not thinking with his head right now. He'll come to his senses and when he does I don't ever want to see you or Trunks around him again. And the same goes for Goten."

"So help me, Kami," Bulma glanced skyward, her whole body shaking. "I won't listen to this!" she cried, but there was no one on the line. With the sound of the dial tone buzzing in her ear, she threw the phone against a nearby wall, plastic pieces flying as it crashed to the floor.

"Mom?"

She spun around with tears in her eyes to face concerned blue ones. Trunks's brow creased with worry and he took a few steps toward her. Gohan, who had entered along with him, stood at the door, a frown marring his handsome features.

"Are you okay?" her son asked and she forced a smile.

"I'm fine," Bulma sniffled, attempting to reassure him.

"Are … you sure? Cuz you seem kind of upset."

She reached out to smooth down the front of his rumpled shirt. "Oh, sweetie, you look a mess," she scolded in the harshest tone she could manage. "You're not sitting down at the table like this. Go and clean yourself up before we have lunch."

He stared at her suspiciously for a moment before agreeing with a quick look at Gohan, reassuring himself that the other would care for her while he was gone. "Alright, but I'll be right back."

She waited as long as she could after Trunks left before leaning back onto the counter and dropping her head into her hands.

"I'm guessing that was my mother." Gohan was embarrassed. "I'm sorry for whatever she said to upset you. I just came back from talking with her and it . . . it didn't go well. To say the least."

"Oh, Gohan," Bulma dried her tears on the same apron, telling herself to pull it together for the boys' sake. She was angry more than anything else and she would get over it. But she could only imagine the conflicting emotions Gohan must be feeling. "I'm the one who's sorry."

He shrugged, still annoyed with himself for expecting anything more from Chichi. But her reaction didn't change anything. Much like he had told his mother, whether she was supportive or not, he had made up his mind. After all that he and Trunks had overcome to be together, he wasn't going to let anything divide them now.

Gohan raised his eyes from the floor to meet Bulma's.

"I didn't tell him," he admitted.

The blue-haired woman nodded in silent agreement, knowing Gohan's reasons for keeping it to himself were the same as her own.

"What about Goten? Is he okay?"

"He's fine." Gohan relaxed a bit as he shared the news. "He's hardly even been at the house, actually. Dad suggested that he move into my old place. Figured it'd give Goten a little of the independence he's been wanting, but keep him close enough to look after. And," he added after a pause, "it'll keep him out of harm's way while she's … adjusting to everything."

"That Goku. He's smarter than he looks sometimes, isn't he?"

Gohan returned her smile and the two were grinning at each other by the time Trunks returned.

"Did you just say Goten moved out?" he asked. If he had heard anything else, he didn't bring it up.

"Uh, yeah," the other demi nodded, taking a seat at the table next to him. "I bet you'll be getting a call from him tonight. Dad says he can't wait to tell you the news."

"Awesome." Trunks rubbed his hands together. "Housewarming party."

"Hey, criminal mastermind," Gohan waved one hand in front of the teenager to get his attention, "why not put that brain of yours to work thinking of what we're going to tell Francis when we get home this afternoon?"

"You think of something," Trunks said dismissively, reaching for a crusty loaf of bread and ripping off a chunk. "You're the one whose bright idea it was to go flying around downtown."

"Hmm," Gohan frowned and Bulma dropped the Sunday edition of the West City Chronicle on the table in front of them.

"Don't you two ever read the paper?" she teased. "That's old news."

Gohan picked it up, alarmed to see a picture of the two of them in the bottom right corner of the front page. It was from the evening before. One of the bystanders must've used a cell phone to snap a photo of the Saiyans hovering above the sidewalk.

Bulma continued. "I guess someone recognized Trunks because the reporters called Capsule Corp. to get some answers. According to the article, Meena told them you two were testing a new personal propulsion system that still had a few glitches. After that, people lost interest pretty quickly." She smiled, quoting from the article. "Just another one of the Briefs' crazy inventions."

"Now that's a loyal employee," Gohan noted.

"Wow. And I always thought she hated me."

"Who could hate you?" the older demi teased before Bulma could ask the question for real. "You're so darn cute."

"Shut up." Trunks swatted at him with the newspaper but gave up the assault when he remembered his shredded muscles.

"Now, now. You stop giving my son a hard time," Bulma scolded as she placed a pair of steaming hot bowls in front of them. "That's what Vegeta's here for."

"That's right," the Saiyan prince agreed as he entered the room, his cocky swagger letting the three of them know they were in the presence of royalty. He helped himself to the soup then exited the same way he'd entered. "And you'd better bring your A-game tomorrow, Trunks. I could've destroyed you today."

The teen swallowed the piece of bread he was chewing and, unfazed, reached for another. It was only when they heard the door close behind Vegeta that Trunks answered sweetly, "I love you, too, Dad." And for the rest of the afternoon, the sound of laughter could be heard echoing from the kitchen and far beyond.

An orange-haired woman strode into Capsule Corp., as she did every weekday, though significantly later that morning than every other. Not that it mattered much, since she was personal assistant to a man who worked one day a week, if that. It was a promotion she'd been given the year before, when Bulma announced that her son would be working at the family company when he graduated high school. Before that she'd been the head front desk receptionist and moving up twenty-five floors on the corporate ladder had come not only with a nice pay raise but a much quieter work day.

That was, as long as Trunks was in a good mood.

"Capsule Corporation. How may I direct your call? One moment please." The younger woman who'd taken over her position looked up from her desk in the lobby, where multiple lights flickered on one of several phones. "Capsule Corporation. Please hold."

She addressed her next comment to the orange-haired assistant. "Oh, Meena, I'm so glad you're finally here. Mr. Briefs is in today. He's been here since nine."

Hazel eyes widened. "Oh, but—. It's only Monday! I didn't think he'd be here until Friday—."

"I don't know why he's here," the other girl stated. "But he's been down three times already looking for you. I told him about your little boy and he started asking me all sorts of questions. I hope I didn't say anything I shouldn't have, but he just makes me so nervous—."

"Oh, it's not your fault, sweetie," Meena attempted to reassure her as she rushed towards the elevators. "I'd better hurry upstairs."

"Let me know how it goes!"

Meena swallowed when the lift stopped at the twenty-fifth floor and she saw that the double doors that led to their office suite were already wide open, all the lights on inside. She crept toward the entrance and, in her uneasiness, jumped when she saw her boss there, leaning back against her desk, one ankle crossed over the other. He was looking down at some kind of portfolio, a shiny white folder with a few pieces of paper inside.

"It's about time."

"I'm _so_ sorry," she apologized, dropping her purse on a chair and hurrying to open the blinds on the floor to ceiling windows at the north side of room. "My son had baseball tryouts this morning and I promised him I would be there to watch. I didn't know you'd be in today or I would've asked in advance. It's just, he loves baseball and this is the first year he's old enough for the team—."

She stopped herself, unsure why she was carrying on. She couldn't imagine there was anything less interesting to her boss than her ten-year-old's favorite sport.

"Can I . . . get you anything?" she asked, turning around to face him when the room was cast in just the right amount of subdued sunlight.

"Did he make it?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Did he make the team?"

"Oh—yes." She couldn't help the smile that flitted across her features. "Yes, he did."

Trunks closed the folder he'd been looking at and took a few steps toward her. When he moved, Meena could see a glass vase on her desk, wrapped with cream-colored ribbon fastened at the top with pearl-studded pins. It was full of roses. Twenty-four blue ones to be exact; extremely rare, genetically engineered, and most certainly expensive.

He handed her the pamphlet he'd been leafing through. "My congratulations. I hope that he'll enjoy these. Season tickets to West City Stadium for the spring. Right behind the batter's box. I'm told they're the best seats in the house."

Meena only looked at him, speechless – a rare quality for her indeed.

"I read what you told the paper about me. You really saved my ass." The Capsule heir flashed a perfect smile and it put his assistant at ease. He glanced at the clock. It was already five after twelve. "I would've taken you out to eat, but you know my lunch hour is sacrosanct."

"Oh!" Meena gasped. "And I've already made you late. Your father will be so angry!"

He only winked at her before walking out of the room, the mischievous sparkle in his eye reminding her how young he really was. It was easy to forget sometimes, when he was playing the corporate executive. The stunned woman followed him as far as the door.

"Thank you, Mr. Briefs! Thank you so much!"

With that, she rushed to the telephone and punched in a few numbers. "Janine? It's Meena. You will never believe what just happened . . . !"

Gohan tapped a pencil against his chin then dropped it onto his desk among the stacks of paper piled there. It was already after one o'clock and he was starting to lose focus after a fairly productive morning. He figured a diet soda would get him through his last meeting of the day and then he could go to a late lunch. Maybe Trunks would want to come.

The dark-haired demi exited his office only to be pushed back inside by five fingers planted in the middle of his chest.

"Where do you think you're going?" Trunks kicked the door shut behind him, shooting Gohan a disturbingly Vegeta-like smirk. It actually made the older demi hesitate before answering.

"I … was going to get a Coke?"

But he got the feeling Trunks wasn't really listening. He wasn't even looking Gohan in the face. Rather his blue eyes were drinking in the rest of him, from pinstriped button-down to tightly laced loafers. The teen grabbed him by the tie.

"I really love this sexy professor thing you've got going on."

"I don't think that I, uh, have anything going on—." Gohan glanced backwards when his legs hit the edge of his desk and realized he couldn't back up any further. The teen took the opportunity to pounce on him, propping himself up on the desk, his knees on either side of the other.

"What if I told you I didn't do my homework? Would you teach me a lesson?"

"Trunks . . . ." Gohan could feel his skin warming even as his eyes shot nervously toward the door. "What's gotten into you?" he whispered, returning his gaze to the younger boy.

Instead of his usual suit, Trunks wore a green gi with an orange belt that looked alarmingly like the one he had as a kid. It made Gohan irrationally ashamed of the raging hard-on he'd acquired since the other entered the room. "Did you just come back from training or something?"

Trunks kissed him rather than answering. Gohan had absolutely no will to fight it and it wasn't until young prince needed air that their mouths parted again. He reached down to pull Gohan's shirt from where it tucked into his pants.

"I can't," the older protested, half-heartedly. "Especially not with you wearing that."

"If you don't like it, I can take it off."

"No, wait," Gohan instructed as fabric started to rustle above him, but the boy had already stripped to the waist. "I have a meeting scheduled with your mother at one."

"So what?" Trunks landed on his feet again, reaching for the elder Son's belt and pulling the leather from its clasp with a clicking sound. "Skip it."

"That's the thing. We're sort of . . . meeting in my office."

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. "Gohan?" An easily recognizable voice came from the other side. "Are you in there?"

Bulma tried the handle and the metal knob on their side shook.

"Put your clothes back on!" the dark-haired demi whispered fiercely, but Trunks only put a finger to his own lips, shushing him.

Soundlessly, he reached out to flip the lock on the nearest window and slid it open. "C'mon."

He held out one hand and Gohan looked at the door reluctantly. There was no way this was a good decision. It was completely inappropriate, Bulma would be furious, and if he was any other employee, there was no way he'd escape getting fired.

But . . . .

He looked at Trunks again. Bulma was one of his oldest friends. She'd find a way to forgive him. Right?

The pounding on the door became more insistent as he took the prince's hand and climbed onto the ledge.

"Dammit, Trunks!" The woman on the other side shouted, throwing in a kick for good measure. "What did I tell you about ground rules? He is _mine_ from nine to five!"

_End._


End file.
